


Misunderstandings

by Doombringer (d00m)



Series: Black and Blue (and a little Red too) [5]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Alfred is a badass, Angst, Animal Abuse, Backstory, Bane wears an apron, Capes Suck, Child Abuse, Fluff, Hallucinations, M/M, Multi, Selina Kyle: Not a known giver of fucks, Spanking, Undercover, john blake has abandonment issues, nervous breakdown, ooc moments, shameless self-insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 02:01:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d00m/pseuds/Doombringer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake was panicking. He hadn't anticipated this, he thought Bane would fucking be here. He said he would. Bane never went back on his word. </p>
<p>Ever. </p>
<p>It wasn't fucking fair. Not fair at all.</p>
<p>Sequel to Revelations</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay for this one. 
> 
> Was originally going to be in just one part; but I felt bad for not having anything up in a while so I split it in two.

_“Good evening and welcome to GCN with Mike Engel for your eight o'clock report.”_  
  
Blake leaned back in his chair; munching on a salad (which thankfully, had bits of chicken otherwise he wouldn’t dare touch it) while Bane did pushups on the rising platform. Bane was starting to hang around more often that he usually did, before he just showed up to either spar or have sex. But, since Blake had seen what was underneath all the hardware on his face, he started show up for no reason and would leave without kicking his ass, or fucking it (that, left Blake very disappointed).  
  
Blake wondered if it was because he was lonely, he knew for a fact it was very difficult for someone like him to just go out and make friends, being an ex-terrorist after all.  
  
 _“Breaking news on the Red Hood vigilantes today, as the hit-and-run victim regains consciousness.”_  
  
Blake scoffed. Red Hoods. That’s what they called them after he and Bane took out those rapists. It was because of the bright red ski mask and motorcycle helmet they had worn to conceal their identities. The media had ran with it after hearing his description from the men they’d thrashed.  
  
“You had to pick red.” Blake called to Bane, who was now doing situps.  
  
He didn’t like red. It was a stark color; the color of blood and anger. It reminded him of nothing but the pain of the past.  
  
“I had little choice, they only had red and bright orange.” Bane replied, “The orange seemed a bit... much.”    
  
As it turned out Bane used his injections to go shopping once in awhile. Blake went with him one time and realised why he had self-esteem issues. People stared (and not in the “Oh my God look at that sexy beast” way, like he did). Bane was pretty used to them gawking but it pissed Blake off.  
  
While they were in the checkout line a little girl  who couldn’t have been more than five had tugged on Bane’s sleeve and asked what happened to him. Bane knelt down to her height was was about to say something when her mother had sharply called her away, muttering something about him being dangerous. Bane didn’t say anything but the look in his eyes was enough.  
  
Yeah, Bane was dangerous. But not to kids. Bane had no qualms in harming men (or women, if they crossed him  Blake learned that after a moll tried to stab him during an outing)  but Blake had never once seen the man raise his bent pinky finger to hurt a child. (at least in person anyway; who knows how many kids would be reduced to ash if that bomb went off).  
  
Blake lost it.  
  
He yelled at the woman for treating an war veteran like a child molester and that she should be ashamed of herself, because he had gotten his face fucked up to protect her freedom. Bane had to carry him out of the store over his shoulder to avoid them being kicked out for disturbing the peace. But the shocked and regretful look on that uptight bitch’s face was worth it.  
  
 _“A War Veteran?” Bane asked sarcastically after they’d taken his stuff back to his warehouse._  
  
 _“I wanted to make it hurt.” Blake replied. “Most Americans are grateful for their soldiers.”_  
  
Blake’s eyes flickered across the screen as Mike Engel and the new field reporter Vicki Vale discussed the rising vigilantism and crime in Gotham. He and Bane had hit some drug labs, and  human trafficking ring since their first night out; they were gaining infamy quickly.  
  
Gordon kept mentioning it to Blake when they would have coffee together. Blake kept shrugging it off but the man wasn’t Commissioner for nothing. His girlfriend Sarah also helped whittle away at him. She was a member of the  force; a detective who was transferred from Chicago after the occupation to help out. She and Gordon hit it off almost immediately. She was a nice woman although she could be a bit harsh; but she had been on the force for almost twenty years so it was understandable.  
  
Blake thought she was good for Gordon; he was glad that the man had  found somebody.  
  
Blake spun around in the chair to watch Bane work out, he was wearing nothing but his back brace and his trademark grey pants. Bane always wore the brace, even underneath his clothes when travelling “incognito” due to his back injury.  
  
Blake hadn’t asked about it. Although he was quite aware that Bane had one, due to the ugly rope of scarred flesh that started from the base of his skull and winded down to the slope of his lower back.  
  
Bane had finished his sit ups and glanced over at him, his body shone under the flourescants from his sweat.    
  
“Enjoying yourself?” He asked, his voice tinged with sarcasm.  
  
“You bet.” Blake replied while taking a bite out of what was left of his salad. He placed the empty bowl on top of the desk. “Are we going out again tonight?”  
  
Bane got up and cracked his neck with a sigh.  
  
“Let me use your shower first.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
Bane walked over the catwalk towards the “apartment”. Blake wished he could sneak in and join him in the shower but it was too compact; designed for washing not for hot-soapy shower sex.  
  
Blake had to stop thinking about sex or he would be too hot and bothered to kick ass when the went out.  
  
It was a damn shame.  
  


* * *

  
  
One year. It had been officially one year since Bane and Blake had started doing more than just trying to beat the shit out of each other. Blake couldn't help but feel sentimental, he’d never had a relationship to speak of (if someone could even consider... what this was a relationship.)  
  
He lay in his bed, sprawled out on his back while his alarm clock glared 3:42 a.m back at him. He couldn’t sleep; he was debating whether or not he should celebrate the occasion or not and his mind wouldn’t let him rest.  
  
He knew Bane wasn’t used to celebrations. He didn’t celebrate his birthday (or Blake’s for that matter) Christmas (or any other holiday celebrated during that time) meant nothing to him.  
  
Bane was difficult to please. On so many levels.  
  
As he lay there, thinking quietly that’s when he heard the nose.  
  
The sound of a thunk, coming from the elevator shaft.  
  
 _Huh._  
  
It was luck. Blind luck. Normally at this hour Blake was either fast asleep or too groggy to pay attention but the nervous energy building up within him had sharpened his senses to a degree. Bane had mentioned using the elevator, however he guessed it was noisy, since the opening was right by his apartment and he never heard Bane coming, he was just... there.  
  
Which mean he climbed down the shaft. He was trained by ninjas after all.  
  
He was probably on his way right now.  
  
Blake decided to surprise him, for a change.  
  
He crawled out of bed and out into the main part of the cave, making sure to towel the door and close it so it wouldn’t betray his absence. He knew Bane was fast, and efficient. How much time he had before Bane reached the bottom was uncertain.  
  
Shadows. He needed to hide in the dark, even though he knew Bane was skilled there it was better than standing underneath the glaring fluorescents like a deer in the headlights. Blake treaded softly into a low overhang of rocks near the elevator entrance and crouched down. He controlled his breaths as instructed and stayed perfectly still.  
  
Bane stepped out of the elevator. He was wearing his fluffy winter coat which Blake loved so much (because it was soft, and so damn warm). It was November after all, which meant at night it would get below freezing.  
  
Blake watched as he shed the coat and draped it over his arm. Underneath he had a dark brown sweater which looked pretty ratty and worn. Bane moved lightly, which seemed impossible for someone of his weight, and wearing those heavy combat boots.  
  
He could hear the mask hiss as Bane walked right past him. If he wanted, Blake could reach out and grab his ankle. But, he waited; unsure of what to do with himself.  
  
Would he wait until Bane realised he wasn’t there? What would Bane do once he’d found out?  
  
Bane was at the door to the apartment now, too far away and out of Blake’s sight.  
  
So he kept waiting.  
  
Bane opened the door a crack, he could hear him tugging at the towel.  
  
Distracted. Now or never.  
  
Blake moved as swiftly and silently as he could and jumped right onto Bane’s back, his arms wrapped around his thick neck.  
  
He wanted to say something like “Surprise!” or “Gotcha!” but he never got the chance because with a growl Bane threw himself backwards. Blake felt the air blow out of him in one fell swoop as all two-hundred and twenty pounds crushed him onto the rock surface. In a flash, Bane rolled himself to face him, his legs straddling Blake’s waist and a hand at his throat, the other raised to deck him in the face.  
  
His eyes were wild and confused, like a provoked tiger. Blake had only seen that look once before; when he had licked him. Over a year ago.  
  
Blake had legitimately surprised him. He knew it for sure this time.  
  
He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry. He was in a terrible amount of pain (being body slammed would do that to you) but he’d done it. He’d gotten the drop on Bane.  
  
A fist slammed into the ground right next to Blake’s head, he heard the rock crunch, and was sure there would be cracks there. Bane was breathing heavily, like he’d just ran a marathon. His other hand released his throat but he remained sitting on top of him.    
  
“What on Earth were you doing?” He growled, his voice was labored and hoarse.  
  
“Happy Anniversary?” Blake asked hopefully.  
  
Bane was frowning, it was a type of frown Blake hadn’t seen before.  
  
“You attacked me.”  
  
“Uh, I jumped on you.”  
  
“Your arms were around my neck.”  
  
“People do that as a sign of affection.”  
  
“You...” Bane paused, his frown lessening to a degree.  
  
“Yes?” Blake asked.  
  
“I did not hear you.” Bane murmured. “I... never _heard_ you so I-”  
  
Bane was off of him. He reached down to help a very frazzled Blake to his feet. Blake limped over to collect Bane’s coat which he had tossed aside in the heat of the moment.  
  
“You thought I was someone else.” Blake finished for him. “Because according to you,  I fail at everything.”  
  
Bane nodded slowly, his eyes downcast for a moment.    
  
“I underestimated you.” His voice was softer, apologetic.  
  
Bane  suddnelty turned to him, his fingers twirling oddly through imaginary threads as his hand hung loosely at his side.  
  
“You are ready.”  
  
Blake was in the middle of picking pebbles out of Bane’s coat when he paused, giving Bane a side glance.  
  
“Ready for what?”  
  
“To identify yourself to the world.”  
  
What? Oh. _Oh..._  
  
Blake felt his gut drop. Then, a mixture of excitement and uncertainty filled him.  
  
“And no, Robin, I do not think you fail at everything.” 

* * *

 

Mr. Fox always struck Blake as an incredible man. During the occupation he had been brave, and resourceful, protecting the innocent board members from capture until Miss Tate sold them out (Blake learned this after the fact of course, he was still kind of shocked; she had seemed like such a nice woman). He managed to prove that the so-called investments that crippled his company were fraudulent, and absorbed the late John Daggett's company as well, which made up for the loss. Wayne Enterprises was quickly thriving once again.  
  
Fox wasn’t surprised to see Blake at all when he shyly made an appointment with his secretary, in fact he was slightly amused.  
  
“I’ve been waiting two years for at least a phone call Mr. Blake.” Lucius said, “I’ve saved some things for you... albeit they’re a bit dusty.”  
  
“Uh... thanks?” Blake replied, which made the older gentleman chuckle.  
  
They were sitting in Lucius’ office, Blake fidgeted nervously in his chair, unsure of what to say. Lucius knew he was Bruce’s successor. It was probably written in his will or some shit. Blake didn’t know how he felt, why didn’t Mr. Fox call _him?_  
  
“I understand your discomfort. Mr. Blake. You see, Batman only appears when he is needed. Bruce had hoped that he wouldn’t be for at least long enough for you to prepare yourself but, things didn’t turn out the way he expected them to.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
It was a good thing Bane had found him then. A damn good thing. Blake had stopped second-guessing that months ago. If Bane hadn’t intervened like he did Blake would have ended up dismembered and in a dumpster.  
  
“You look better, gained some muscle I see.” Fox continued.  
  
Blake nodded, thanking him. That was obvious, since the last time they’d seen each other was at Bruce’s funeral and everyone was still scraggly and underfed from five months of hell. Well, besides Alfred, who still looked like shit though for other obvious reasons. Blake was frightened at first when he started gaining until he got a decent look at himself in the mirror and noticed that he saw how toned his upper body was getting.  
  
Albeit the muscles weren’t as big as Bane’s but still... awesome. He was in the best shape he had ever been in his entire life.  
  
He would never be as big as Bruce though, he just didn’t have the body type. So without doing some serious deconstruction on the Batsuit the damn thing would never fit him. Blake didn’t want to risk ruining something that was worth more than his car so he hoped Fox could resize it for him. Which was why he had called, just for a resize.  
  
Apparently, Mr. Fox had other things in mind.  
  
Fox chuckled then got up from his chair, he pressed a button under his desk which opened a part of his bookcase; revealing an elevator.  
  
“Come. I’ll show you what I mean.”  
  
Blake followed him into the elevator and down to the hidden Applied Sciences Division. He was aware that Bane and his men had stolen several weapons and equipment during the occupation but Fox was skilled enough to make sure the media never figured out where they came from. The large warehouse-esque room was filled with Tumblers and even a prototype of Batman’s airship, which Fox called the Bat. Fitting.  
  
“I’ve taken liberties in designing you a new suit.” Fox told him as they walked through the tech. Blake tried to hide the fact that he was practically drooling. “I am quite aware you body type does not match Mr. Wayne’s.”  
  
“Really? Uh... thanks. Holy shit.”  
  
Blake couldn’t help but pick up a small device sitting open on a table. Fox had gone and left things out for him to peruse. Bless this man.  
  
“What’s this?”  
  
“A sonar device. Calls an army of bats to your side, Bruce only used it-- don’t press that.”  
  
Fox gently removed the device from Blake’s hand just as he was about to push the button. His face flushed as he muttered an apology. Fox put it back on the table.  
  
“I’ll need some measurements of course. It won’t be much different than Bruce’s just the size and some new tech.”  
  
Blake watched as Fox pulled a stack of papers from a drawer. They were concept designs. John eagerly took the papers from him and flipped through them, his eye scanning over some adjustments. One thing he noticed as a V shaped plate that was placed over the chest and across the shoulders.  
  
“This is new.”  
  
“Indeed, this suit has an electrical current running through it.”  
  
Blake cocked an eyebrow at him.  
  
“Why would I need that?”  
  
“It increases the strength of the wearer, as well as adding durability. It is much more like an exoskeleton than a suit per-se. However, when powered up the V glows blue which reduces stealth. I can have it painted over if you like-”  
  
“Can you turn it on and off?”  
  
“Hm? Oh yes, of course. There’s a button on the utility belt. But if the suit isn’t powered you will lose the increased strength factor.”  
  
Blake smirked at Fox.  
  
“If I’m in stealth mode I won’t need the extra strength. I like the blue, it’ll work.”  
  
Fox gave him a knowing smile.  
  
“That’s more like it, Mr. Blake. The V can be fashioned into any shape, I suppose you would like a bat?”  
  
Blake thought for a moment.  
  
“Leave it. I’m not Bruce Wayne... uh, I’m not Batman either.”  
  
“Making a name for yourself? Impressive. I suppose you don’t want the cowl either”  
  
Blake looked down and nodded. The cowl was hot, it gave him a headache. He didn’t know how Bruce could stand wearing that thing, that was probably why he sounded so growly and pissed off when he wore it.  
  
“I tried being Batman. It didn’t work out that well.”  
  
Fox chuckled in response and motioned for Blake to follow him.  
  
“I have some other things, you said you used to work as a Beat Cop?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“So you’re familiar with these.”  
  
Fox handed him a pair of sleek black batons. Blake remembered learning how to use them back at the Academy. But, thanks to the Dent Act he barely needed to use them outside of training courses. Thankfully, he had an ex-terrorist that could teach him a thing or two. Wait-- he was actually going to ask Bane to train him? Bane: the worst teacher in the world?  
  
 _“Wow.”_  
  
“When used with the suit they’re also electrified. If you drop them the current is lost, so no one can use them against you. The shock is enough to stun a grown man.”  
  
Blake thanked him. These would be helpful, and he hoped Bane could train him how to use them effectively without beating the shit out of him first. Fox handed him a pair of goggles as well.  
  
“I was going to have these implemented in the cowl, but seeing as you won’t be using it I suppose you’d like these plain. They’re night vision, and infrared, with bulletproof lenses.”  
  
“Nice.”  
  
Fox turned out the lights and let Blake try them out. Blake spent several minutes stalking around Applied sciences while trying out the different settings on the goggles. It was so fucking cool that Blake had to work extra hard to keep his excitement in check.  
  
“Now Mr. Blake. There is something I would like to ask in return.”  
  
Blake pulled off the goggles as Fox turned on the lights again.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I understand you still have Bruce’s old suit. Since you’re getting a new one anyway I would much appreciate it if it was returned; as well as any other equipment you’re not using.”  
  
“Yeah sure, no problem.”  
  
Fox smiled and reached out his hand. Blake took it and they made their agreement.  
  
“It’s an honor working with you, John Blake. Send me in your measurements and the suit will be ready in two weeks, feel free to drop in anytime.”  
  
“Where can I get measured?” Blake asked.  
  
“Just go to your local tailor and order a suit. They’ll give you everything you need.” 

* * *

  
  
Blake grunted and swore as Bane smacked him in the middle with a bamboo stick. Bane chuckled in response then hit his shoulder with the other one. Blake swung his own stick and almost clipped him but Bane easily deflected, shoving him back. He stumbled, then righted himself and got a hit on Bane’s bicep.  
  
“Good.” Bane said in response to the hit.  
  
Bane seemed eager to train Blake again in what he referred to as _escrima_. Blake figured it was because he missed kicking his ass. But, the training had sunk in well enough so that it wasn’t as much of a beat down then before. Blake could actually walk once he was through with him.  
  
Well, most of the time. Training usually led to other things.  
  
He was also happy to measure Blake for the suit although he insisted on Blake being completely naked in a freezing cold warehouse so it was both uncomfortable and a little humiliating. Especially when Bane would snap at him for shivering because it would mess up a measurement, meaning he would have to do it again. Also, Bane insisted on using centimeters instead of inches which Blake thought was stupid and kept bickering until Fox told him that it wouldn’t make a difference. Bane was very smug after that.  
  
Sometimes, Blake swore that Bane was starting to  tease him. He didn’t know if he liked it or not.  
  
“Good?” Blake replied, “That was fucking aw- _OW SHIT_!”  
  
Bane made a sound of amusement as his left baton hit him square on Blake’s right pectoral.  
  
“Fuck you man.” Blake growled as he dropped his right baton to massage his throbbing pec, he wondered if this was why girls didn’t like being hit in the boob; it fucking _hurt._  
  
“Are you done? I will get you some water.”  
  
This was Bane’s way of calling him a wimp. Blake did everything in his power to keep from clenching his teeth in frustration. But, Bane had made the mistake of turning his back on him. So Blake swung mightily before he could react.  
  
He hit Bane square in the ass.  
  
Bane froze in response.  
  
He wasn’t trying to, he was just mad; annoyed with Bane sudden desire to incessantly fuck with him. Bane slowly turned to face Blake; his brow furrowed.  
  
“What. Was that?” he asked, precisely enunciating every word.  
  
“Uh... sorry?”  
  
Shit. He’d pissed him off. This wasn’t going to end well. Bane advanced on him, slowly. Blake dropped his other baton and moved back with a twinge of nerves.    
  
“Look, Bane I really didn’t...”  
  
He yelped when Bane reached out and grabbed him by the waistband of his track pants which jerked him forward into his chest. He felt a large hand slide down the small of his back and squeeze his ass harshly.  
  
“I warned you about teasing me, Robin.”  Bane growled into his ear, warm puffs of breath emanating from the mouthpiece of his mask.  
  
Oh... thank God. Bane wasn’t pissed at him. Blake’s hips were pressed flush with Bane’s he could feel his half-hard cock pressing against him through the coarse fabric of his pants.  
  
Who knew Bane, of all people liked getting spanked? Or was it the fact that Blake had simply touched him there? It didn’t matter anymore because Bane was really turned on which meant it would be one of those days he’d go home walking funny. The thought of it got his cheeks flushed, sending blood to other important areas as well.  
  
Bane being agressive made him more horny now, even when he was supposed to be scared. Lovely.  
  
“Let me make up for that.” Blake purred (well, at least he thought that was what a purr sounded like), he wasn’t a very good flirt, most of his dirty talk consisted of swearing and pornographic noises.   
  
Bane was smirking under the mask; he had to be. Blake wished he could use one of his injections so he could see that lopsided grin again but Bane considered that to be wasteful; and there were so many of the injections he could have in a day without damaging his body further. If he used one now just for a prolonged fuck he probably wouldn’t be able to eat breakfast the next morning.  
  
His hand squeezed Blake’s ass harder, making him yelp.  
  
“I want your mouth. Now.”  
  
Blake nodded, placing a few kisses along his collarbone and neck before being impatiently shoved onto his knees. He dragged his hands along Bane’s stomach and thighs then went for the zipper of his pants. He heard Bane exhale in anticipation, his hand becoming tangled in Blake’s hair  as he coaxed out his still half-hard cock.  
  
A few strokes with his hand had it standing at full attention. Blake leaned in and dragged his tongue along the underside up to the head. Bane rumbled in approval as his fingertips dug into Blake’s scalp and his thighs trembled .Blake wrapped his lips around him, teasing the glans with his tongue which made Bane make a noise that was just _obscene_. His own cock twitched in response.  
  
It was quite impossible for Blake to take all of Bane in his mouth; he was just too big. But, Blake managed what he could with long, slow ministrations with his tongue while his free hand stroked along what was left of Bane’s length. The man was breathing heavily now above him.  Soft growls and moans slipped out but were barely audible to the untrained ear; but Blake was very well trained for those sort of things and he reveled in them.  
  
Suddenly, Bane pulled Blake’s head away from his cock. He swore when he was suddenly being drug to Bane’s bed and unceremoniously thrown on top of it, his collection of decorative pillows went flying in all directions.  
  
Sure, the sex was great but Blake did not like being tossed like a hacky-sack. He gave Bane a disapproving look but Bane just smirked at him, his eyes squinting in amusement.  
  
Blake watched as he pulled off his braces and pants, then leaned over the bed to relieve Blake of his own. He didn’t struggle, letting the man pull off his boxers as well. Bane leaned over to the crate he had propped up as a night table and grabbed a bottle of lube stored underneath it. The mattress groaned when he climbed up to join Blake, who had relaxed and spread his thighs so Bane could prepare him.  
  
His breathed out a soft moan when Bane’s fingers entered him. He was very good with his hands. Blake figured it was because the use of his mouth was limited. He was getting better at kissing the times they were able, but nothing felt better than those large hands on him; those thick (but not too thick) fingers inside of him.  
  
Blake let out a sound of protest when Bane withdrew his fingers and flipped him roughly onto his stomach. He felt Bane’s cock nudge at his entrance for a moment before the man climbed up to position himself more securely on the bed. Suddenly, he heard a sharp growl.  
  
Bane was prone to making animal noises. Usually, he only did so when he was pissed off or sexually aroused. Blake knew for sure that Bane was pretty horny but this didn’t sound at all like he was turned on.  
  
He still remembered the night when Bane’s mask had gotten destroyed. The sounds he had made haunted him sometimes. This sounded pretty similar to those- was he _hurt?_    
  
“Bane?” Blake asked while he rolled over to see what had happened.  
  
One of Bane’s hands was on the small of his scarred back, the other was clutching the bed sheets. Blake reached out to touch Bane’s shoulder and he tensed, moving back a moment in surprise.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
“Yes.” Bane growled.  
  
Blake wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t want to argue with someone who could get aggressive when wounded. Was the analgesic running out? Bane was usually pretty diligent about replacing the cannisters. But, he was also aware that Bane wasn’t wearing his brace either.  
  
“Is it your back?”  
  
Bane glared at him for a moment then nodded, his eyes downcast. Blake rubbed his shoulder gently and coaxed him to lie flat which would be more comfortable for him. Bane was hesitant at first but complied with caution. Blake climbed up and straddled his waist.  
  
“You still up for it?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Blake rode him to both of their release and curled up on top of Bane; their bodies were both slicked with sweat. Blake had cleaned up the come that had been smeared all over Bane’s stomach and chest earlier. The ex-terrorist’s arms were wrapped around Blake’s body; holding him close as they rested. Blake’s head was tucked neatly under Bane’s chin,  he could hear the man murmuring his contentment with each breath.  
  
Despite the fuzzy sated feeling of his orgasm, Bane’s earlier discomfort was nagging at the back of his mind. He hated to bring it up but he figured now was the best time since Bane was obviously in an affectionate mood.  
  
“What was that?”  
  
“Hm?” Bane rumbled.  
  
One of his hands slid up Blake’s back and tangled in his hair. It was much longer now; and starting to get a little shaggy and curling. But, he never had the time to cut it short. Bane mentioned he liked it long anyway so he decided to wait.  
  
“Your back, earlier. I thought your mask took care of the pain.”  
  
Bane was silent for a moment, his fingers kept twirling around in Blake’s hair so it was obvious he hadn’t crossed any of his boundaries yet.  
  
“The only way to truly take care of my injuries would mean I would have to be completely numb to all sensation. My mask simply reduces the pain to a more tolerable level; it does not eradicate it. The doctors who formulated my medication it told me that if I was numb it... would do me more harm than good.”  
  
“Oh... makes sense. You could chew through your tongue while eating and not even know it.”  
  
“Such an active imagination Robin.”  
  
He heard Bane laugh softly, if Blake wasn’t curled onto his chest he probably wouldn’t have heard it at all. Being constantly in pain. _All. The. Time._ Blake didn’t know how he would handle it if he ended up in the same situation.  
  
“Are you in pain right now?”  
  
“Yes, but if I preoccupy myself with other things I can put it out of mind. I do not notice it most of the time.”  
  
Blake smiled, having been comforted by that notion of what “other things”  Bane was referring to. Then, he leaned up to kiss him right below the eye. Bane blinked slowly and let out a soft hum of pleasure then rolled them both onto their sides; pulling a blanket over them.  
  
“Stay with me. You don’t work tomorrow.” Bane asked.  
  
“Okay.” Blake murmured into his chest.  
  


* * *

  
  
A few days later Fox called, saying Blake’s stuff was ready. Bane was over at the time so he volunteered to help pack up Bruce’s old armor.  
  
The suit was in two layers, a nylon-esque bodysuit went underneath while the kevlar plates were attached in pieces on top. Blake and Bane stripped the plates off the “nylon” and were placing them into a large box filled with packing peanuts.  
  
“Have you thought of a name?” Bane asked while examining Bruce’s cowl.  
  
Blake, who was trying to get the blades on Bruce’s gauntlets to go back in so they wouldn’t cut up the box, shook his head.  
  
“Not really, no. I thought I’d let the people of Gotham pick... since I’m their hero and all.”  
  
Bane frowned at him.  
  
“That is _so_ unwise.”  
  
“Why? They might think of something cooler than I can.”  
  
“Like the _Red Hood?”_ Bane replied, his voice tinged with sarcasm.  
  
Blake cringed at that. What kind of name was Red Hood? Seriously. It sounded like the name of a gang-banger or some shit, not the name of a protector.  
  
He kept poking at the gauntlet until the blades flew out towards Bane who simply side-stepped and let them embed themselves into the wall as if it was nothing.  
  
“Shit!”  
  
Bane glanced over at the blades and back at Blake, he casually reached over and plucked out each of them and placed them in the box with a soft chuckle at Blake’s terrified expression.  
  
“I almost- they could have-”  
  
“But they did not.”  
  
Fox had asked that they examine the stuff for any damage so he could repair it. Bane was overseeing the undersuit when he found a hole in the torso. He frowned for a moment, sticking one of his fingers through the tear.  
  
“What did this?” He asked, his voice sounded apprehensive.  
  
Blake shrugged.  
  
“I dunno, that was always there. Figured Bruce got stabbed or something and never bothered fixing it.”  
  
Bane kept staring at the tear until Blake insisted what was left of the suit be placed in the box and to notify Fox about the damages. Bane kept glancing at the box while Blake covered it in a plastic tarp so the water wouldn’t damage it on the way to the car. They left the cave together and headed towards Blake’s car which was skillfully hidden underneath some branches.  
  
“So, tomorrow night okay?” Blake asked while he placed the box in the trunk.  
  
Bane didn’t reply. Blake turned to ask him again but he was gone. Blake didn’t think anything of it, maybe he had other things to do or didn’t like handling Bruce’s stuff.  
  
He really should have thought about it.  
  


* * *

  
  
Fox was glad to have the old suit back. Blake told him about the tear in the side and some scuffing on the plates. When he told him about  the gauntlet incident the man laughed, saying Bruce had done the same when he first got it.  
  
It was comforting. Blake almost added the part about Bane being there too and how the blades almost got him in the face in the process but he quickly held his tongue.   
  
Blake went to St. Swithin’s to help out decorating for Christmas, then had coffee with Gordon. But, in the back of his mind he couldn’t wait to try on his new uniform and show Bane, who was very interested in some of the new features after Blake had showed him the concept designs.  
  
He stepped into the Warehouse with the box in his hands, and immediately knew something was wrong. It was completely dark. _Completely_. Bane usually had at least one light on or the coals in his fire pit would be glowing at least.  
  
“Hello?” Blake called hopefully.  
  
Silence.  
  
Blake carefully set the box down and began moving through the darkness. Bane’s shitty training was starting to pay off. He learned how to use his ears and sense of touch to navigate through the darkness.

  
It was a test. It had to be. Bane was giving him one last test to see if he was _truly_ ready. Or, this was Bane getting back at Blake for jumping on him without his permission.   
  
Except, he couldn’t feel anything familiar. Bane had a bunch of crates strewn about with random shit in them like clothing or books. He stacked up some empty ones to make a makeshift wall for privacy. He knew by now he should be by a crate where Bane kept old newspapers and bits of wood for his fire; it wasn’t there.  
  
“This isn’t fucking funny!” Blake shouted, he was in denial now.  
  
Bane was a creature of habit, he thrived having a strict routine. Because of this,he was very particular about where things were placed. The man rarely moved stuff around once it found its spot. In fact, he was pretty anal about it when Blake would put things where they _obvioulsy_ didn't belong.   
  
He also was pretty anal about their appointments. When Bane said he was going to be somewhere to do something with him, _he was fucking there_. If he couldn’t make it (which rarely happened) he would let Blake know.  
  
Something was fucking wrong.  
  
Blake was panicking. He hadn’t anticipated this, he thought he would fucking be here. He said he would. Bane never went back on his word.

_Ever._  
  
He hated to admit it, but he needed Bane to be here. Why wasn’t he? What did he do wrong? Was it something he said? Was it something he did?  
  
Blake didn’t realise he was running for the light switch until he found himself frantically trying to get the lights on.  
  
Nothing. No lights. The power was out.  
  
 _“BANE!”_ He shouted.  
  
He should be keeping his head. He should be remaining calm, but he wasn’t. How could he remain fucking calm? How?  
  
Despite his hysteria, he remembered his small flashlight that he kept in his jacket pocket. He dropped it twice while trying to turn it on but finally managed to flick the switch and scour the building.   
  
The Warehouse was empty.  
  
Blake moved through the rooms. It was like Bane was never even there; save for a few scorch marks on the dirt floor where he kept his firepit. Even the bed was gone. The crates, the bathtub.  
  
And Bane himself; nowhere to be seen. Like smoke in the wind.   
  
It wasn’t fucking fair. _Not fair at all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Blake apparently is a composite of the three most widely recognized Robins, (Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, and Tim Drake) I decided to throw some Red Hood in there because what the heck, why not? 
> 
> Blake's "Nightwing" Suit is based off of the Batman Beyond suit and Nightwing's Arkham City designs so if you need a better visual check those out. 
> 
> The quote about the cowl is nicked straight from Christian Bale's complaints about it. (Well, the Batman Begins version) Allegedly, he used his discomfort to add to his performance. 
> 
> The electrified escrima sticks are also from Arkham City.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said it was going to be in two parts, but it just kept getting longer and longer and longer and gaaaahhhhh...
> 
> Now it's in three parts! 
> 
> Sorry

Blake was angry, he was wounded, and he was confused.    
  
He hadn’t felt this way since his father died.   
  
It happened all the time. He would meet someone, start to feel attached to them, he’d grow close, he’d start to trust them.   
  
And then they were gone.   
  
They’d die, or they’d _leave_.   
  
Foster parents who decided they didn’t want to deal with his trauma, boyfriends in high school who only used him for the occasional blowjob then dumped him. Bruce was _dead_. His parents were too.   
  
Now, Bane.   
  
Bane fucking left him.   
  
Bane _abandoned_ him.   
  
Right when Blake needed him most, he was gone.   
  
And as always, Blake blamed himself.   
  
He must have done something to deserve it, it was always his fault. His father died trying to earn money for his wellbeing. He couldn’t let go of his anger fast enough so foster parents thought he was dangerous. But, he couldn’t put a finger on what he had done to earn Bane’s ire.   
  
But he had done something, now Bane was gone like the rest of them.   
  
He sat there in the Warehouse, his breath hitching as he tried to hold back sobs.   
  
_Not fair, not fair, not fucking fair-- what did I do wrong? Why didn’t you tell me I was doing something wrong?_  
  
He punched the wall furiously, until his knuckles split and bled. The pain was nothing compared to the weight he felt racking his body. Blake pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes and tried as hard as he could to fight back the stinging tears but it did no good and they streamed down his face.   
  
He was alone again.

* * *

  
  
The Operation was small, most were now. The  Dog Fighting Pit was located in an abandoned factory in the Narrows.   
  
The police were too fucked in the ass due to the loss of the Dent Act to slow things down. Organised crime was starting to wheedle in and take hold again despite the City’s feeble attempts to stop it.   
  
The people in the Narrows also didn’t give two shits; one of the only things that didn’t change about this City.   
  
The men watched intently as the two dogs tore into each other; their fur and blood flying. The cheers of betters and trainers almost drowned out the snarling and barking of other dogs awaiting their turn to fight and kill each other.  
  
It was a fairly new Operation; yet one of the most profitable in a long time due to the fact so many dogs were abandoned during the Occupation, most starved but those who didn’t had become feral and aggressive due to being forced to eat each other for survival.   
  
The dogs were good; the money was good. The men sincerely wished the Mob would keep their fingers off of it.   
  
One man sat with his moll in the back; watching the dogs tear into each other behind a pair of sunglasses. He chewed half-hazardly on a matchstick while his girl draped over him lazily; obviously bored and disgusted with the display of animal cruelty in front of them.   
  
Ozzy had sent him here, to see how well the Operation was going. The man wanted in on some of the payoff but the owner was having none of it; knowing the man made well enough with his Nightclub and the illegal arms he smuggled into the city. He figured some intimidation would be in order after tonight’s fights were finished.   
  
The man  thought he heard a sound from the rafters above them; but he pushed it out of mind. The Red Hoods hadn’t been seen in weeks even though some guys were still running scared. His moll looked up; obviously paranoid about the sound.  
  
Then, the lights went off.   
  
The cheers and snarling suddenly turned to shouts of alarm and terror. The dogs yelped and began to bark in fear, not anger. The man and his girl stumbled to stand upright.  
  
Another thunk. Then a low whir of something electric.  
  
He looked up into the rafters and saw a faintly glowing V; like bird’s wings.   
  
Holy shit.   
  
The V swooped down from the rafters; right in the middle of what the man assumed was a throng of men. There were the sounds of something hitting flesh, as well as sparks of electricity. The sparks lit up the room briefly; creating a strobe effect. The man could make out a lean figure holding two sticks decimating the men who tried to attack. His cape billowed out around him as he moved to strike viciously at the other men who tried in vain to shoot him or bring him down.   
  
He grabbed his girl by the upper arm.  
  
“C’mon, it’s time to go.”   
  
The figure turned for a moment; The Man could tell by the way the V moved. He could see the man running towards them. He cursed silently as he and his girl stumbled towards the door with the man right on their tail. They made it through, and headed for the next door which would lead them out into the street where their car was waiting.   
  
He heard the sweeping of fabric as their pursuer moved through the doorframe and slammed the door behind him to keep the other men from following. Then he heard a grunt then someone swearing. He heard fabric ripping as well.   
  
The guy had caught his cape in the door.   
  
Idiot.   
  
They managed to make a clean break because of it.   
  


* * *

 

  
“You look ill. Are you sure you’re alright?”   
  
Blake’s eyes flickered from his sandwich, to Gordon, then  to the newspaper with WHO IS THE NIGHTWING? written in big letters across the top.   
  
Nightwing. He wasn’t sure where they came up with that one but he liked it. It was much better than the Red Hood for sure.   
  
He could go without “the” at the beginning. He never understood why they called Batman “The” Batman. It just sounded... wrong.   
  
Well, Nightwing it was; Nightwing he was. His first night and gone off almost splendidly.  
  
Except for the part where he got his cape stuck in the door and ripped it in his haste.   
  
Fucking peice of shit; he’d lost two perps in the process. Blake sent it back to Fox who was more amused than angered about it. He’d figure out some other ways to keep himself getting hurt after a long fall.   
  
Gordon of course called him a couple days later, wanting to meet for lunch. Blake had no objections; he hadn’t talked to anyone since Bane left; not even to people at work.   
  
Gordon was his only constant now. Despite letting him down in the past he managed to make up for it by not leaving him. However, he kept wanting to talk about Nightwing. Blake insisted he didn’t really know anything about him.  
  
“Yeah... I’m good I’m just... getting over a cold.” Blake murmured.   
  
He wasn’t good. He wasn’t fine at all. He was still wrecked about Bane leaving him. Fucking- _god_ it still hurt. Blake had to force himself to eat despite not being hungry. He barely slept; usually filling his time with pointless exercise or following leads. _His hair was falling out_. Blake was pretty confident that he wasn’t going bald; he was just stressed.    
  
He was running on a quick half-hour nap and three cups of coffee; so it was obvious that he looked like shit.   
  
Gordon wasn’t convinced at Blake’s excuse either. He could see it in the man’s soft blue eyes.   
  
“Look son, if you need someone to talk to-”  
  
“I’m fine.”   
  
“You need to try harder to convince me on that one.”   
  
“I’m fucking fine, okay? I didn’t _do_ anything--”  
  
Gordon frowned at him, causing Blake to choke off his last words.   
  
“I’m not accusing you of anything.” He said softly, “Do you think I am?”   
  
Blake let out a groan of frustration; he buried his face in his hand.   
  
“No... yes... _ughh_...”   
  
“Son, the men back on the force are worried about you, _I’m_ worried about you. If you’re having problems you need to tell someone.”   
  
Blake peered at Gordon between his fingers. He could see the concern on his face. The man _was_ a father. And, he was Blake’s only confidante now that Bane was fucking gone.   
  
“Look,” Blake started slowly, his chest and throat were starting to swell up at the thought, “I’ve been seeing someone for the past year or so.”  
  
Gordon took a sip of his coffee and leaned forward.   
  
“Really? What’s her name?”  
  
Blake wanted to laugh. Gordon could be brilliant one day, or completely blind the next. He decided it was because the sexual orientation of his coworkers didn’t matter as long as they did all that they could for their City.    
  
“I’m gay.”   
  
He would have laughed at the Commissioner’s sudden flustered expression if he wasn’t so goddamned depressed.   
  
“Oh... shit-- _Jesus_ , I’m so sorry.”  
  
“It’s fine.”   
  
“So, what’s his name?”  
  
“Dorrance.”  
  
Bane used several aliases while out and about in the City, but Dorrance was his most common one. It was just a last name, since most men preferred to be called by that anyway.   
  
“ _Just_ Dorrance?”  
  
“Yeah, he thinks his first name is stupid.”   
  
Gordon nodded, a little perturbed.   
  
“So, what about you and Dorrance?”   
  
“We... well, we were never really dating just...”  
  
He didn’t know why but he felt embarrassed talking about it. But he could trust Gordon, the man wouldn’t abandon him out of nowhere.   
  
“You were seeing each other intimately?”   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
Gordon nodded at this, taking another sip of his coffee.  
  
“We, well... A month ago or so I was going over to his place to... you know.”  
  
“I understand.”  
  
“I have a key to his apartment, so I just let myself in and he...”  
  
“Was he with someone else?”  
  
“No.” Blake snapped, sharply. “Sorry... he was... well, he wasn’t there at all. In fact, he’d moved out. All his stuff was gone too.”  
  
Gordon frowned, obviously confused.   
  
“He moved out?”  
  
“Yeah. He just didn’t tell me about it. No phone call no notifications for a new address, nothing.”  
  
“So your...” Gordon cleared his throat. “... _partner_ , just up and left without telling you where he was going or why?”  
  
Blake swallowed and nodded, looking back down at his untouched sandwich. He wanted to scream, to punch something. He wanted to cry but goddamnit he wasn’t going to cry in front of Gordon.   
  
“I... I thought... I...”  
  
His jaw clenched in anger. How dare he? How dare he just walk away from him like that? How fucking dare he just disappear and take a shit all over Blake’s emotions... goddamnit.   
  
“John... I’m _so_ sorry.”   
  
“It’s fine. I’m just a little... pissed off.”  
  
“You must care for him. He obviously doesn’t for you.”  
  
“You don’t know him.”   
  
“I know if he cared about you he would have told you where he went. And, that he was leaving in the first place.”   
  
“I... I know that. I just...” Blake made a sound of frustration, trying to find the words. “I don’t know what _I_ did to make him leave.”   
  
“John, _John no..._ ”   
  
Gordon reached out and grabbed his wrist, making Blake flinch for a moment. It was instinctive now. The last time a person tried to touch him it was to bash his face in.   
  
“It was nothing you did. It was _him._ ” Gordon insisted. “Do you think he left Gotham? I can set up an investigation.”  
  
“I... I don’t think that would do any good. I don’t know if I even want to see him anyway.”  
  
Blake had already set up and investigation. It was the best and most thorough he had ever undertaken. He had scoured the sewers and ever abandoned building known in Gotham. Most of his sleepless nights were taken up with following leads and looking for any information at all; any blip in the radar.  
  
He’d even tracked down Crane. But the slimy bastard said he hadn’t seen Bane in months then tried to gas him. Blake ended up breaking the guy’s nose before dumping him back at Arkham. It was a shame; the guy was pretty hot for someone who was batshit insane.   
  
So, Bane was just gone, and if he was still around he clearly didn’t want to be found.   
  
“I understand.” Gordon said slowly. “If you need anything call me or Sarah. And for Pete’s sake please get some sleep. You look like a heroin addict.”   
  
“...thanks.”   
  
“I also have some other news.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Bane’s dropped off the radar.”  
  
Blake, who had managed to take a sip of water nearly inhaled the whole glass. He needed to stop doing that. He was going to choke one of these days.

* * *

  
  
It was February.   
  
Blake had spent Christmas with the kids at St. Swithin’s; replacing Father Reilly as Santa Claus after the priest threw out his back. He sent a card to Gordon and Sarah, who announced their engagement on New Year’s Eve. Blake tried to be happy for them but deep down he felt nothing but bitterness. At least he had enough sense to get his anger in check again; put on that mask he’d thrown out the window when Bane forced himself into his life.   
  
And if he was feeling like being honest with himself, he felt used. Like Bane’s glorified cum dumpster slash punching bag. It was an awful feeling considering all that Bane had done for him.   
  
Nightwing took up more of his time than ever before. He was quickly gaining fame and infamy. The kids speculated whether or not he was Batman or one of the Red Hoods in a new disguise, or a successor to either. Gordon mentioned him every time they talked.   
  
Blake wondered if Gordon knew, but was just too polite to say: “Hey, you’re Nightwing now; awesome.”   
  
The criminals on the other hand were half pissed off and half scared. Many of them thought they had a clean break after Bruce’s death. Many never had to deal with Batman before, due to the long time he had been retired.   
  
The Mob wasn’t gripping Gotham like it used to; but major players were starting to enter the game. Blake was gathering as much as he could in order to bring them back down to size again, but it was hard.  
  
He never realised how easy he had it with Bane watching his back.   
  
No, he didn’t need Bane he was fine without him; just fucking _fine_. He didn’t need that asshole’s help at all. Not. One. Bit.   
  
It didn’t hurt as much as before, but it still stung. Like the way his wrist would still ache a little when overworked, even though he broke it more than a decade ago, (one of the bigger kids at St. Swithin’s had thrown him down the stairs during a brawl)   
  
Work was starting to become a chore. He took fewer and fewer hours; having to resort to food shelves and charities for the majority of his groceries. His diet didn’t improve; you simply couldn’t eat healthy on minimum wage. He was losing weight. His build became thinner and more wiry, like a sinewy mongrel. He had to take the Suit back in for a resize which left him off the streets for a week.   
  
Mr. Fox, Sarah Essen, and Gordon kept insisting he eat more, sleep more, take some time to himself.  But Blake couldn't fathom that. He had a fucking job to do and goddammit, he was going to do it.   
  
He sat in the cave in his Nightwing suit; his goggles pushed up to his forehead. He watched the monitors of the Supercomputer intently; searching for some evil doers doing something nefarious; so he could drop in and wreck their shit.   
  
He was pretty good at that. Punching people helped, so did zapping them unconscious.   
  
Suddenly a blip appeared on one of the monitors. His brow furrowed as he leaned forward. A little girl had been kidnapped for ransom. The men had threatened to kill her if her parents called the police.   
  
The family was upper middle class, living in one of the better suburbs. The father an attorney, the mother a homemaker who occasionally sold makeup and Tupperware as a hobby. Their daughter was six. Their family wasn’t too terribly wealthy but they were definitely well-off enough to warrant a kidnapping.   
  
He studied the picture of the girl on an adjacent screen. She had dark hair and wide chocolate brown eyes; her skin a medium shade of brown. Blake recognized her. She was the little girl who had asked about Bane’s scars several months ago. He felt something break.  
  
Her name was Kristina Segura. She had been taken earlier this afternoon while waiting for her bus to take her home from school.   
  
The men had already sent a video to the parents of them terrorising Kristina, making her cry for her parents who obviously weren’t there to help. But she was six. What could she do?   
  
Blake’s jaw clenched in rage. This wasn’t going to fly.   
  


* * *

  
  
Finding where the men had taken her was easy enough; just a run down motel on South Channel Island. He’d traced the location by tapping into the kidnappers’ phone while they were sending the video to Mr. and Mrs. Segura.   
  
Within the hour he was already encroaching on the motel. It was 2:37 in the morning.   
  
Nightwing hid the Batpod (well, he’d taken to calling it the Wingpod now that it was in his possession) in an alleyway behind a dumpster. If anyone else would try to take it they would receive a nasty electric shock; one of the benefits of Fox’s tech.   
  
As he crept up to the building he switched on the infrared option on his goggles so he could see the people inside.   
  
A man clearly having fun with a couple prostitutes, wait... was he taping that? Eeeugh.   
  
There was someone jerking off- okay this was getting weird.  
  
Five men and a little girl. There we go. She was locked in the bathroom while the men waited for a response. He switched on a device on his ear which was tracing their phone signal so he could eavesdrop on their conversations.   
  
_“She hasn’t stopped crying. How long before her dad shows up with the cash?”_   
  
He could hear her muffled sobs. His heart clenched again. She was terrified. He hoped they hadn’t done anything else to her.   
  
_“He’ll be here around four.”_  
  
 _“What about the police or... that Nightwing guy?”_  
  
 _“If either shows up; you know what to do.”_   
  
Nightwing made his way up to the motel door; having located  Kristina’s position. He knew what the man had meant, which meant he had to be swift, and silent. One of the five men was on watch; positioned just outside the window.   
  
He could just cut the power with an EMP on his belt, but he didn’t want to risk the men realising he was there and hurting the girl. He wouldn’t use it until he could get between them and the door to the bathroom so none of them could get to her.   
  
However, he did know all the rooms were connected via ventilation shafts.   
  
Thank you, _No Country for Old Men._   
  
Nightwing rounded the building to another room which was adjacent to the one where the kidnappers were hiding. Luckily, it was empty so he wouldn’t disturb anyone while he broke in. Picking the lock was a cinch. He crept into the room and saw the vent near the ceiling right above the bathroom door, which meant he would come out right above the door where Kristina was being kept. It was just big enough for him to squeeze into.   
  
He carefully unscrewed the vent and crawled up into it; switching again to infrared so he could see exactly where the men were located. Kristina was hiding in the bathtub while the five men moved  around out in the main room. One was still keeping watch outside the window, two of them were lounging on the beds; he could hear the muffled sounds of the television playing some late night infomercial. One man paced the room impatiently while the final man stood right in front of the door; barring the girl from leaving.   
  
She wasn’t crying anymore, but she was obviously afraid. His heart reached out to her.   
  
“It’ll be okay, I’ll have you home soon.” Nightwing whispered under his breath.   
  
He readied the EMP and the night vision setting on his goggles, once he’d bash through the vent and onto the guy guarding the door it was going to be a free-for-all and he didn’t want any of the kidnappers having an advantage.   
  
In one swift movement, he was  inside the other room and it went pitch dark. The man guarding the door was down in less than a second. His pulse roared in his ears from the adrenaline; he could barely hear the men shouting and pulling out their guns; frantically firing in the dark.    
  
He turned on the exoskeleton which lit up with a low whir as he lunged for the remainder of the men. Dodging their gunfire expertly and dispatching them one by one with vicious blows and electrocution from his batons.   
  
Bullets riddled the walls and the ceiling; he could hear the shouts of the tenants on either side who were alarmed by the sudden lack of lights and the sound of gunshots.  
  
He heard Kristina screaming, she was obviously not aware of what was happening outside. Nightwing paused for a moment in concern when the final man near the window took advantage and shot at him; but he righted himself just in time to feel the bullet ricochet off his goggles causing him to lose visual for a moment.   
  
Thank god the lenses were bulletproof.   
  
_“You must always mind your surroundings.”_   
  
Nightwing swore and stumbled as he felt the man tackle him. His night vision flickered back on; there was a giant hole in the right lens but he could still see. It was a good thing Fox had given him a couple spare lenses in case this happened.   
  
He raised one of his batons and pressed it directly onto the man’s temple; sending a powerful shock through him. The man sputtered; rolling off of him while shuddering from the electricity. Nightwing got up and kicked him in the ribs for good measure before going into the bathroom for the girl.  
  
“Kristina?” He called gently while he turned off the EMP, allowing the lights to flicker back on.   
  
He heard a soft whimper from the bathtub. Nightwing moved slowly towards the tub and pulled back the shower curtain.   
  
Oh no.   
  
_Oh God no._  
  
He hadn’t foreseen how thin the walls were. It never even occurred to him that bullets could travel through them and into the stomachs of little girls.   
  
Kristina was still alive; but barely conscious. She feebly cried out in pain as he swiftly gathered her in his arms.   
  
She was like a feather, or a tiny trembling chick that had fallen from its nest. Except she was losing a lot of blood.  
  
Hospital. There was one four blocks down.   
  
Christ, he needed to hurry.  
  
She blinked for a moment and looked up at him.  
  
“You’re... you’re... Ni... Nightfling.”  
  
Nightwing laughed softly, not bothering to correct her.  
  
“Yeah, how are you feeling Kristina?”  
  
“I feel... sleepy.”  
  
No. _Oh no no no no..._  
  
“Don’t sleep yet sweetie ’m gonna get you to a doctor okay?”   
  
“I want my mama.”   
  
Blake kicked open the door to the motel and rushed her to his bike. He could hear the wail sirens in the distance but he wasn’t risking waiting for the police or an ambulance to show up.   
  
“You’ll see her soon I promise, just stay awake. Can you do that for me Kristina?”  
  
She blinked slowly, she wasn’t showing much signs of pain which meant she was going into shock. He had to move fast.   
  
“Okay.”   
  
“What’s your favorite color sweetie?” He asked, knowing that keeping her talking would increase her chances of survival.   
  
“Purple.”  
  
“That’s a nice color, do you have a favorite animal?”  
  
“I like birds.”   
  
“Do you have a favorite kind of bird?”  
  
“Robins.”  
  
Nightwing felt his heart break all over again.

* * *

  
  
Blake rushed her to the hospital; parking the Wingpod outside the Emergency room entrance. Kristina was fading; her answers to his questions were too weak or jumbled for him to make out. Her blood was smeared all over his suit, the bike and dripped onto the pavement as he kicked open the doors.  
  
The receptionist stared at him for a moment;  frozen in shock. She stood unmoving as Nightwing searched for a doctor or nurse.   
  
He snapped.   
  
“WHAT THE _FUCK_ ARE YOU DOING!?” Nightwing screamed. “GET OVER HERE AND _HELP ME!_ ”   
  
Suddenly, a couple nurses rushed over with a stretcher, a frightened doctor was on their tail.  
  
“Her name is Kristina Segura. She was the girl who was kidnapped last afternoon. She’s been shot-”  
  
Another doctor pushed him aside as a crowd began to grow in the lobby. He could hear them whispering and exclaiming in excitement. He saw someone snapping pictures of him with their cell phone.   
  
Nightwing watched as the nurses got to work hooking up Kristina to machines that would keep her alive a bit longer. She was safe... for now. Maybe. She’d lost a lot of blood and might not survive the surgery that the doctors were already planning for her.  
  
If she died, it would be his fault. 

* * *

  
  
Blake didn’t recall how he made it home. All he remembered was stripping off his suit; leaving it in pieces around the cave. He panicked, trying to wash her blood off his armor and the Wingpod. But no matter how hard he tried he could still see it; still smell it in the air.   
  
Her blood was literally on his hands.   
  
How could he have been so stupid?   
  
Blake let out a choked sob and dropped the washcloth onto the rock surface. He couldn’t grasp anything anymore so he just sat down on the ground.   
  
Behind him, he could hear the supercomputer blaring news and information at him.  
  
 _“This just in, the child Kristina Segura, who was kidnapped this afternoon has been found. Thanks to the Nightwing.”_  
  
 _“Local authorities are still on the look out for the arsonists responsible for burning down a hotel in São Paulo, Brazil three months ago. One of the suspects seen fleeing the scene appeared to be male, six foot four; roughly two hundred and twenty pounds, with a hood concealing his face said local witnesses.”_  
  
 _“...six year old Kristina was presumably shot by her kidnappers but rushed to safety by Gotham’s newest vigilante. She is currently in critical condition after receiving a bullet wound to her abdomen. Her kidnappers have been apprehended after a vicious beating by the Nightwing.”_  
  
 _“The other two suspects appear to be a caucasian man and woman. The man seemed to have been using a cane for support as he too fled the scene.”_  
  
 _“...we have received the first amatuer and survaliance footage of the Nightwing. Warning, the images may be disturbing.”_  
  
 _“I heard shouting in the next room. It wasn’t in English or Portuguese... it sounded like Mandarin Chinese. One of the voices sounded like it was coming from a walkie talkie except it was really loud...”_  
  
 _“...just showed up in the ER *bleep* covered in blood and *bleep* screaming at the receptionist like he was on crack or some *bleep*.”_   
  
  
Blake forced himself to stand. He numbly walked into his room and slammed the door; not having enough strength to turn off the computer and face his mistakes. He staggered into his bathroom then turned on the shower, letting the hot stream of water scald his skin as he curled his knees up against his chest and sobbed.   
  
_His fault._   
  


* * *

  
  
He didn’t get any sleep that night. Nor the next one either. Gordon called him but he he let it go to voicemail. A few hours later Sarah tried to call him, he let it go to voicemail as well. He didn’t want to talk to anyone; especially not them.   
  
The news was the same each day. Kristina was still in critical condition; having not woken from her surgery. He hacked into her hospital records; the doctors gave her a thirty percent chance of survival.   
  
Sleep eluded him. Every time he closed his eyes to rest he kept seeing Kristina’s crumpled body; he could smell her blood in the air. He would wake with a jolt, only having been asleep for a few minutes.  
  
After a while he just gave up trying.   
  
The third day without rest, he forced himself to go to work. Genevieve was straight up gawking at him as he walked through the door.  
  
“Dude, are you alright?”   
  
Fuck her. Fuck her annoying nasally voice. Fuck her midwestern accent. Fuck her stupid hipster glasses.   
  
“Fuck off.” he growled.   
  
She frowned, mouthing the word “ _okay_ ” as she resumed organising the non fiction section as his manager and store owner: Austin came storming from the back.  
  
“What the hell, John?”   
  
Blake looked up, surprised. Normally Austin left him alone.   
  
“What?” Blake asked, bristling. He did not have time for this.   
  
“You’re a half hour late- Jesus you look like shit.”   
  
“Thank you, Captain Obvious. I’ll stay a half hour later to make up for it.”   
  
He brushed past Austin on his way to the break room where he could hang up his jacket and get to work.   
  
“Blake...”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I’d like to see you in my office.”   
  
Blake groaned internally as he followed Austin to his office. The moment the man closed the door he turned to Blake with a sour expression.  
  
“This is the third time you’ve been late.”   
  
“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll take care of it okay?”  
  
Austin instructed for Blake to sit, but he didn’t want to; fearing he might pass out and see Kristina covered in blood again. The older man settled down in his office chair behind his desk; his hands folded neatly in front of him.   
  
“Look,  John. Ever since I hired you, you’ve come to work disheveled and bruised. I didn’t mind because you were on time, polite to your co-workers and customers.”  
  
He sighed, leaning forward.  
  
“You were a good employee. _Were._ But now, you’re late and you’re asocial I mean... I know Genevieve is not the nicest person but you just told her to fuck off for no reason. And you look worse than ever before. So...”  
  
“You’re firing me.” Blake finished for him.   
  
Austin nodded slowly.   
  
“I’m sorry John but your behavior it’s-”   
  
Blake didn’t hear him. His eyes trailed off to see the little girl in the corner with a hole in her stomach. His breath hitched and his heart leapt up into his throat; he smelt the sticky acrid taste of blood in the air. Behind her was a tall man with steel grey eyes and plump lips slashed over with scars. His large beautiful hands were rested on the girl’s shoulders.   
  
_“You fail at everything.”_ The man said, his odd accent rumbled deeply and echoed in the small room. _“You can’t even save one child from five men. Why do you think I left you?”_   
  
“John?”  
  
Blake stumbled backwards, trembling. Austin looked concerned and stepped forward, he reached out to touch his shoulder but blake viciously shook him off.   
  
“John look, if you need help there’s a rehab center-”  
  
“Go away!” Blake shouted. “Why are you here? Leave me alone!”   
  
“John!”   
  
He bolted from Austin’s office and nearly ran into Batman, whose body was charred and twisted into an ugly shape. He opened his mouth to reveal rotting teeth caked in blood.   
  
_“I trusted you with my city Blake. You went and fucked the man who tried to destroy it.”_  He rasped.   
  
_“Nighty night, Johnny Boy.”_   
  
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry just leave me alone!”  
  
He shoved past the corpse of Batman, nearly knocking over the Children’s section as he staggered to the door; nearly running over Gordon in the process.   
  
“Jesus, Blake! I’ve been trying to call you for the past- _oh my God_.”   
  
Blake fell into his arms; he was babbling and sobbing as Bane, Kristina and Batman swirled around his head. He saw his father’s head exploding in the distance over and over.  
  
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Was all he could bring himself to say.   
  


* * *

  
  
He came to his senses briefly in the Back of a car; curled in the fetal position. Bane was sitting in the passenger seat with a bloody Kristina in his lap. He was playing with her hair absent-mindedly.  
  
 _“I like robins.”_ She said.  
  
 _“I used to.”_ Bane replied. _“Until one disappointed me.”_   
  
“How long has it been since you’ve slept?” Gordon asked.   
  
Blake blinked. Bane and Kristina had vanished; just a grey rotted corpse of Bruce remained, stinking of blood from a wound in his stomach.  
  
“I... I dunno. What happened?”   
  
“Son, you had a meltdown at work. You were also fired, I’m afraid.”   
  
“Where you taking me?”  
  
“Back to my apartment.”  
  
“What bout my car?”  
  
“This is your car. I took a cab over after you wouldn’t answer my calls. Jesus Christ John! Sarah and I have been worried sick about you. We’ve been trying to call for almost three days! We thought you might have _died_.”   
  
Bruce slowly morphed into his father; with half of his head gone and brains dripping onto the upholstery. Blake needed to get out of here.   
  
“Why you give a shit? Stop car. Let me go.”   
  
Gordon swerved to the side of the street and slammed on the brakes, sending Blake flying against the front seats with a flurry of cussing and a groan. He heard Bane’s soft rumbling chuckle at his misfortune. A flurry of bats flew up from under the seats.   
  
“ _Jesus H. Christ_ John Blake!” Gordon Shouted, “I’m tired of beating around the bush here-”  
  
“What you talking about?”  
  
“I _know_ you’re Nightwing John, so does Sarah.”   
  
Blake’s heart stopped for a moment to register those words. His mind was a fog but sudden clarity hit him like a freight train.   
  
“Wha-”  
  
“I know Bruce is really dead; and that he had to have chosen someone to replace him. You knew who he was, you fought for his city- who else but you John? I didn’t want to accuse you outright, I secretly hoped it wasn’t because look what happened to Bruce in the end-- and you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Jesus, I was in denial, kept finding excuses to throw me off.”  
  
Gordon pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, holding back a sigh.  
  
“Then the Segura girl’s kidnapping... Someone filmed you bringing her to the hospital on their smartphone. It was a hit on Youtube overnight. And... Sarah recognised your voice... so did I. We knew how much you might be beating yourself up over this so we tried to call just so you’d have someone to talk to since your boyfriend walked out on you and-”   
  
He was twelve again. He was angry. He didn’t know why he suddenly felt this way. He was just so angry.   
  
_“We know what happened to you was hard.” The woman said, her hand gently rubbing his back as she led him up the stairs. “But Charles and I want to help you. You’ll see, things will get better. You’ll forget about the whole thing.”_  
  
“Let m’ go.”   
  
“John, please. Let us help you.”   
  
“You can help me by getting out of my car and _letting me go_.”   
  
“I’m assuming you haven’t slept in days, Son, you’re not well. I’m not leaving you alone.”   
  
Blake reached out to open the door; too fast for Gordon to hit the lock button. He sprawled out onto the sidewalk and found his feet; his body was running on adrenaline.   
  
“John, stop! We just want to help!”  
  
“I don want your fuckin’ pity!” He growled, teeth clenched and grinding together. He could see Bane holding his dead father in the corner of his eye.  
  
Gordon got out of the car after him and he bolted. Bane’s shit training was still paying off, he was gone in moments; vanished amongst the throng of Gothamites still roaming the streets.   
  


* * *

 

  
Blake didn’t know why he came here; the old Warehouse. When he opened the door he scared a couple cats which had most likely moved in to escape the cold. It wasn’t the same. It stunk like cat piss and something dead. But he didn’t know where else to go. His father was wandering behind him with that same hole in his head and chest, his juices dripping onto the ground.  
  
Around this time, Blake realised he was hallucinating; having not slept in days. His father wasn’t there, Bruce wasn’t there, Kristina wasn’t there...  
  
Bane wasn’t there.   
  
He stumbled through the murky dark until he reached the bathroom. Bats flew out at him when he opened the door. He could see Batman sprawled out next to the abandoned laundry sink, his skin scorched to a crisp.  
  
 _“You failed us.”_   
  
“Shut up.” Blake croaked, “Shut up, shut up. You’re not real.”   
  
Blake crawled into the corner and sat down; burying his face in his knees. He sat there for what felt like hours. He tried to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes the same images appeared; along with his father getting shot. Bane leaving.   
  
_“My Robin...”_   
  
The voice was  low, with a metallic rattle.   
  
Blake looked up.   
  
He was hallucinating Bane again; this time he has the mask on. Kristina was standing behind him, her arms hanging loosely at her sides and staring up at his massive frame.   
  
“The fuck do you want?.” He snapped.  
  
Hallucibane stepped forward, a concerned look in his eyes.  
  
“Stay the fuck away from me! _You’re not real!_ ”   
  
He flinched like someone had whipped him then stopped, his brow furrowed. His hand was reaching out towards him.   
  
_“Robin-”_  
  
“No, you shut the fuck up and listen you sack of _shit._ ” Blake snarled. He knew it was petty, but he was going to tell this figment of his imagination what had been brewing in his mind for three months. “You fucking abandoned me. You said, you were going to be there when I... when I identified myself to the world. But you weren’t were you huh? You fucking _liar_.”   
  
Hallucibane slowly nodded in agreement. Then crouched down so he was eye-level with Blake.  
  
 _“I understand my actions hurt you. I didn’t intend for that to happen.”_  
  
“You never told me where you were going- DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH ME-- YOU’RE NOT REAL!”  
  
He smacked away Hallucibane’s outstretched hand, he flinched. _Flinched_ , like he’d touched a hot stove. The look in his eyes was like a kicked dog's.   
  
Good. Fucking wonderful. His hallucination was understanding Blake’s hurt.   
  
_“You think I am a figment of your imagination.”_   
  
“Of course, dumbass I haven’t slept in three days. You left. You’re gone. You vanished. I looked _everywhere_ for you. I needed you here and you left me. What did I do to deserve that? Were you just done toying around with me huh?”  
  
 _“You are not a toy, Robin.”_  
  
“Well you made me feel like one. Now fuck off so I can go to sleep and make you disappear.”   
  
Hallucibane blinked for a moment then stood up.  
  
 _“I am not leaving you here.”_   
  
“Yes, yes you are. Now fuck off or I’ll trash your mask and leave you to rot.”  
  
Hallucibane flinched again then turned to go.   
  
_“Very well.”_  
  
“You know, you’re just like everyone else in my life. They always die or they fucking leave. I remember everyone that leaves. But I swear to god I hope I forget you.” Blake hissed.  
  
He was feeling particularly vindictive today. He wished he could have said this to every pair of foster parents; to every user boyfriend, to the _real_ Bane.   
  
_“I’ll never forget you, my Robin.”_  His voice sounded soft, strangled.  
  
Hallucibane turned and left the bathroom, his legs moving stiffly. Blake closed his eyes and willed himself to rest.

 

* * *

  
  
_He was floating. The chilled air nipped at his exposed hands and ears but he was floating as snow flurries swirled about him. His face was buried in soft lambskin which smelled like leather and metal with a hint of human sweat._   
  
_Not the most pleasant scent; but bearable. There were worse things to smell._   
  
_He murmured in contentment and reached up to pull the lambskin closer to his face. It was so soft._   
  
_He felt safe._

* * *

  
  
Blake woke up wrapped in a fleece throw blanket and fresh clothes; a pair of black pajama bottoms and a hoodie to be precise. The blanket smelled like cigarettes, instant coffee, and Gordon’s cologne. He blinked feebly as he turned to take stock of his surroundings.   
  
Everything hurt. Everything. His head throbbed and his eyes were definitely swollen and puffy. Every move of his body made his muscles scream in agony. But he had to know where he was.   
  
He was in a quaint living room on a leather couch. There was a modern art painting on the wall which looked like someone ate crayons then ended up vomiting (because what else would happen  if you ate fucking crayons?) and then they had the bright idea to puke all over a canvas rather than using a bucket like a normal person.   
  
He really hated that kind of art. (mostly because he thought it looked like puke). He had told Bane that once and he laughed for five minutes straight then told him he didn’t understand art before laughing again. It was the most he’d ever heard the man laugh in one sitting.   
  
He couldn’t see Bane.   
  
Nor Kristina, Bruce, or his father.   
  
Sleeping had worked.   
  
But how did he end up here?   
  
He heard footsteps then a soft gasp. Feminine.   
  
“Jim, he’s awake. You can stop tiptoeing around.” It was Sarah’s voice.   
  
“Good.” Gordon replied. “Can you get him some aspirin and a glass of water?”  
  
“I’d rather have coffee.” Blake grumbled.  
  
“Considering you had dangerous levels of caffeine in your system when we found you in an alley, Nightwing you’re not getting any coffee until your body recovers.” Sarah snapped.    
  
Blake turned stiffly to see Sarah, her dirty blond hair was mussed and she was in a bathrobe with plaid pajama pants and slippers. Gordon was right behind her in similar clothes; save his bathrobe was hanging open revealing a loose t shirt with a hole near his belly button.  
  
By the nature of their attire Blake figured it was either early morning or late at night. He hoped it was late at night so he could just curl up and go to sleep.  
  
Wait, he had a job to do.  
  
He tried to stand, but his legs wobbled and he stumbled forward; face planting on the hardwood floor. Sarah rolled her eyes and trudged off into the kitchenette to fetch a glass of water and pills. Which was good because his mouth felt like he had just swallowed a tablespoon of gravel.  
  
“You’re not going anywhere, son. The City can wait a couple days.” Gordon said quietly as he rounded the couch.  
  
“Sorry I ditched you.” Blake murmured into the floorboards.   
  
He heard Gordon chuckle and rest a hand on his shoulder.   
  
“It’s alright. You were hallucinating and stressed. Understandable, considering what you’ve been through.”   
  
“How long was I out?”  
  
“A couple days.”  
  
Blake groaned. Two fucking days. He wanted to go back to sleep since Sarah and Gordon weren’t going to let him leave, he’d might as well make the most of it. He sat up then crawled back to the couch, making a nest out of the blanket and curling into it. Sarah came back with a large glass and two pills which he took gratefully.  
  
“We have good news about the Segura girl. She woke up yesterday; she’s expected to make a full recovery. Kept asking about Nightfling.” She stated, a soft smile on her lips. “Her parents wanted to thank you personally for saving her life.”   
  
Blake felt heavy weight lift of his shoulders. She was going to be okay. He didn’t kill her. He gulped down as much water as he could stomach; the cool liquid soothed his swollen throat and settled nicely in his belly.   
  
“It’s my fault she got shot, you know. They shouldn’t be thanking me.”  
  
Gordon and Sarah looked at each other then back to him. Gordon went back into the kitchen and starting dinking around with something.   
  
“Don’t say that.” Sarah said, her voice soft. “You didn’t pull the trigger.”  
  
“I should have just broken in, grabbed her, then ran. But I saw the video of those men terrorising her- and I... I...”  
  
“You wanted to hurt them. Make them pay.” Sarah finished. “You let your anger get the best of you. That doesn’t make what happened to Kristina your fault.”   
  
Blake nodded slowly, taking another sip from his glass. He heard the sound of toast popping; he flinched; nearly dropping the glass on the floor. Sarah laughed quietly.   
  
“Where’d you find me?” Blake asked.  
  
“In an alley near the Gotham City Opera House, one of the cast members from _Madame Butterfly_ nearly stepped on your face on her way home. We’d reported you missing so everyone was already looking for you.”   
  
Blake frowned. He remembered blacking out in Bane’s old warehouse. Maybe in his temporary psychosis he had sleepwalked or something. The Opera House wasn’t far from the Narrows anyway so it made sense.   
  
Gordon came back with toast and jam for everyone along with a pitcher of orange juice to fill up Blake’s now empty glass, and two glasses for himself and Sarah. Blake thanked him quietly before digging into the toast.   
  
“Mmh, this is good what kind of jam is this?”  
  
“Cherry-Rhubarb.” Gordon said triumphantly as he nibbled on his own toast. “Sarah made it.”   
  
“It’s fucking delicious, you should make me some.”    
  
Sarah rolled her eyes again with a bashful smile.   
  
“That’s just because you haven’t eaten anything in two days. Anything tastes good when you’re starving.”   
  
“Oh shush Sarah. And no, John the jam is mine. All of it.” Gordon teased.   
  
John laughed despite his still scratchy throat. It was the first time he’d truly laughed since Bane left.   
  
He felt okay.

_Things were going to be okay_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah Essen is Commissioner Gordon's second wife from the comics.
> 
> Dorrance was the last name of Bane's father from the comics. It's the only alias I could think of. 
> 
> Another shoutout to American Psycho. Seriously, despite being really gross it's a good movie. Watch it. 
> 
> In most hotels and motels, the air-ducts are connected. This was exploited in the film (not sure about the book though) No Country for Old Men. 
> 
> It has been proven that after a few days of no sleep that people start to hallucinate.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Chapter is super long. 
> 
> There may be some politically incorrect wording that might offend some people. Be warned as well. 
> 
> Whew, I'm glad I finally managed to finish this!

_Bane paced back and forth in the warehouse. His body shaking with a mixture of rage and grief.  
  
Alive. He was alive. All this time. While he had grieved and moved on with Blake the bastard who murdered Talia and her father was living free somewhere without a care in the world.  
  
He knew the moment he saw the small tear on his armor; a slit right between the bones where Talia had struck with surgical precision. ( Even in the haze of his pain, he never forgot such mastery. Talia had always been better than him  at using knives.) Bruce Wayne had not perished in fire like he had fooled everyone to believe.  
  
Coward.  
  
He should have stayed on that flying contraption because what Bane was planning to do to him would be much, much worse.  
  
Bane should have known Bruce Wayne would have more tricks up his sleeve. He should have started looking the moment he recuperated and realised that  it was Robin John Blake, not Bruce Wayne masquerading in that awful suit.  
  
He paused for a moment.  
  
What would his Robin think of him? If he knew the truth he surely wouldn’t allow him to go. He would never approve of Bane bringing justice to the man (and that woman, who mutilated had his body further). He would protest, and possibly to everything he could to allow Mr. Wayne and Miss Kyle to go free and unharmed. Bane thought to himself quietly.  
  
Something in what little of a heart he had broke.  
  
His Robin could not know. His Robin must never know what he was about to do-- not until it was already done. And then, his Robin would most likely never want to see him again once he knew his friends were dead. He knew he had promised to be there for him as he rose to take up Bruce’s mantle- but the old wounds were opened up; rotted blood and pus seeping out and stinging his already oversensitive nerves.  
  
It. Drove. Him. Mad.  
  
He disposed of the things he did not need for his journey and departed as if he had never been there. Vanishing into the shadows of the night.  
  
“I am so sorry, my Robin.”  He murmured hoarsely while he snuck onto a cargo ship headed for England.  
  
“I am so sorry.”_

* * *

Two weeks after he nearly lost his mind, with hard rest and tons of cherry-rhubarb jam, Blake was back on the streets again as Nightwing. The first thing he did when Gordon and Sarah trusted him to leave their apartment was to buy a stuffed robin for Kristina. He tied a purple ribbon around its neck and got a matching get well card.  
  
 _Dear Kristina,_  
  
 _I’m glad you’re feeling better. I thought you might like to have this._  
  
 _-Nightfling._  
  
He dropped it off at the hospital while she was asleep. According to Gordon and Sarah, she loved it. Sarah sent him a picture of her hugging it close. Blake almost melted from the cuteness.  
  
Hey, he liked cute things okay? There’s nothing wrong with liking something cute.  
  
Except for flowers, because cutting off the genitals of plants for decoration was just _wrong._  
  
Now that Gordon knew who he was, they were able to work more closely and hit the criminals harder, and faster. He would meet him at night atop the MCU building with Bruce’s insignia glaring up into the smog which always hung above the city.  
  
On one particular night in early March, (March the fourth to be exact) Nightwing met with Gordon per the usual. But this time, the man was disheveled and nervous.  
  
Blake swung down from an adjacent building using the grapple gun and lighted next to the Commissioner, who jumped in alarm at his sudden arrival.  
  
“Nightwing.” Gordon stated.  
  
“Commissioner.” Nightwing replied; his voice was softer and much deeper in order to disguise it. It was his voice after all that put the last nail in the coffin when it came to Gordon knowing he was John Blake.  
  
“We have some news about the mob.” Gordon replied, “A couple of our underground informants have reported a meeting between  Oswald Cobblepot and Roman Sionis that will happen tomorrow night at the Iceberg Lounge.”  
  
Nightwing nodded. He was aware of both men. Cobblepot was an Arms Dealer from England who set up in Gotham years before Batman showed up. He ran the Iceberg Lounge as a front for his nefarious dealings with the Mob.  
  
Because of his dabbling in Ornithology, his odd style of dress, and the name of his Nightclub, the locals of the underworld often referred to him as “The Penguin.” However, no one was brave enough to say it to his face.  
  
After the Dent Act was passed, Cobblepot fled back to England to avoid incarceration. He ran his Nightclub from overseas as his only means of legitimate business. He was back in Gotham within a month of the Dent Act being repealed and quickly monopolised on Black Market trading since many luxury goods were hard to come by after the city had been stripped down. He was making serious bank from it along with supplying weapons and tech to the Mob once more.  
  
Sionis on the other hand, was one of Gotham’s elite before losing everything during the Occupation. It was a miracle he wasn’t captured and tried like the other wealthy in the city. After things got cleared up he was forced to file for bankruptcy and sold everything Occupation hadn’t managed to take from him. Wayne Enterprises ended up absorbing his company as well.  
  
He somehow managed to wheedle control of some of the smaller Italian crime families. It wasn’t long before he became a formidable force in the underworld.  
  
Sionis and Cobblepot normally did not get along, which was good for the City and made things easier for Nightwing and the Police to handle. They could chip away at them both by pitting them against each other. An alliance between the two men could prove disastrous.  
  
“Is it an arms deal or something else?” Nightwing asked.  
  
“Our informants aren’t sure. They’re keeping it locked up tight, they’re not going to be allowed at the meeting.”  
  
“Alright.”  
  
He turned to leave.  
  
“Blake...”  
  
Nightwing stiffened. Gordon was usually pretty good about keeping Nightwing and Blake separate, he usually only slipped up if there was something else on his mind.  
  
“What’s wrong Gordon?”  
  
“Our informants also stated that Bane’s back in town.”  
  
 _What?_

He’s kidding. He has to be kidding.  
  
It was a good thing the goggles were tinted so Gordon couldn’t see the look in his eyes.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
So that was why Gordon was all frazzled. He rubbed the back of his head nervously and started pacing the rooftop while Nightwing watched in shock.  
  
“He’s been spotted several times- the earliest was the night you... had your episode. Our informants couldn’t confirm it until now.”  
  
Nightwing felt his jaw clench until it hurt. Bane was back? He really was? His conflicting emotions swirled around in his head. He wasn’t angry like he thought he should be, he wasn’t relieved that Bane was alive, he was... confused.  
  
“I want to speak to your informants.” He stated.  
  
Gordon sighed in frustration and shook his head.  
  
“You can’t- they've been deep undercover for almost four months. If they blow it now they’ll be _killed_. Both of them.”  
  
“Can you at least tell me their names-- In case I run into them?”  
  
Gordon nodded slowly.  
  
“Matches Malone, and Isis.”  
  
What kind of names where those? Must be false names to secure their identities. But Matches? _Really?_  
  
Nightwing returned the nod in thanks.  
  
“Alright, I’ll look into the meeting tomorrow; and start keeping my eyes peeled for Bane.”  
  
Gordon smiled faintly.  
  
“Good luck, Nightwing.” _**  
**_

* * *

Blake sat in front of the Supercomputer trying to find information on Matches and Isis. It was strange; both had apparently popped up out of the middle of nowhere four months ago and quickly set up shop working for Cobblepot.  
  
Matches was nicknamed because of his habit of chewing matchsticks. Blake recognised him from when he hit that dog pit back in late November.The woman he was with must have been Isis.  
  
And to think, he would have kicked their asses if his cape hadn’t caught in the door.  
  
He was a tall man; muscular with angular features and extremely high cheekbones. His eyes were concealed from view behind a pair of tinted glasses; it was impossible to guess his eye color. He had a fetish for checkered tweed jackets which made a part of Blake vomit internally.  
  
Also, the pedo stache was doing him no favors.  
  
But, Cobblepot seemed to like him well enough to promote him to a low level enforcer. He and his girl Isis, (who bleached her hair to Platinum blonde and wore enough eye makeup to be mistaken for a raccoon.) Were often seen overseeing some of his operations as well as speaking for “Ozzy” when he wasn’t able to be present.    
  
They looked vaguely familiar. In fact, Matches looked almost like Bruce Wayne. But, it was impossible because Bruce didn’t have two gold teeth.  
  
And, he was dead, _obviously_. Unless there was a lead-lined refrigerator hidden on the Bat somewhere there was no way he would have survived.  
  
Blake also started doing some digging on Bane. He’d been in Gotham since late February like Matches and Isis had told Gordon, they’d apparently seen him “disposing” of a dead body outside Narrows. But they weren’t sure because his trademark mask was concealed by a scarf and they didn’t dare get close enough to make sure, but after criminals started getting brutally maimed again they knew it was him.  
  
Gordon was doing everything he could to keep the media from being aware of Bane’s return. He didn’t want people to panic, they’d deal with him as quietly as possible since he hadn’t attacked any innocent civilians since they realised he had survived over a year ago. And, didn’t seem like he was planning to start anytime soon.  
  
Blake still felt conflicted. It would be easy. Just sneak up and break his mask, then leave him for Gordon. Except he didn’t want to. He remembered being so angry, so hurt that Bane had left him but he still couldn’t raise a hand against him.  
  
Sometimes he felt a twinge of loneliness, remembering the times when Bane had cooked for him and held him close after they fucked; how he played with his hair and murmured sweet nothings to him in that weird foreign language of his.  
  
Blake thought at one point that he loved him. Although he wasn’t sure because he’d never loved someone like this before. It wasn’t as fierce or intense as teenage romance, which was driven by overworked hormones (lust disguised as love, basically). But it was there, like a raw ache after a good workout or rough sex. Sore, but satisfying.  
  
Yeah, Blake still cared for Bane to some degree. He couldn’t shake his feelings despite being royally pissed. Bane had trained him and saved his ass more times than not. He at least owed him for that.  
  
Blake decided after he’d spied on Cobblepot and Sionis he’d spend the rest of his time figuring out what to do about Bane.

* * *

The following night, Nightwing headed over to the Iceberg Lounge. It was a pretty ritzy looking place but that was just a pale disguise to the seedy underbelly that it housed. The GCPD tolerated it only because it was a good place to find information on the nefarious dealings of the underworld.  
  
Sneaking into the place wasn’t easy. Ozzy had his mooks crawling all over the place, and on high alert. It was obvious that he didn’t want anyone uninvited crashing the party. He was forced to knock some of them out to ensure a clean passage to the “Conference Room”. A large office-esque room in the Lounge’s basement where Cobblepot obviously negotiated his dealings. It had a large table and fourteen chairs neatly arranged around it with more crayon-vomit art on the walls. There was a buffet table with a carafe of some sort of brown liquor on top of it along with a bucket of ice.  
  
Nightwing wasn’t surprised when he found himself squeezed in a ventilation shaft, which groaned from his weight in protest. He wasn’t planning on confronting Sionis or Cobblepot directly; just to eavesdrop and see what their meeting was going to be about. His goggles had a mini spy camera setting so he could record it for further analysis, and send a copy to Gordon and Sarah.  
  
He tensed when he heard voices of men. One, obviously a thick dialect of English the rest and American.  
  
“I don’t see why he insists on being so fashionably late.” Said Cobblepot, as he entered the Conference room with a waft of cigar smoke and Matches following him. “And Malone, you and your bird stay outside yeah?”  
  
“Up yours, Ozzy.” Came a shrill, feminine voice, it sounded like the squawking noise a chicken made when it was alarmed.  
  
“Isis, settle down- sorry boss I think she’s on the rag. Sionis’ll should be here in five.” Matches drawled.  
  
“ _Screw you_ , Matches. I’m going to get me a drink at the bar upstairs.”  
  
“She is a feisty one ain’t she?” Cobblepot put in with a raspy chuckle. “You, watch the door for our honored guest.”  
  
“Yeah I ‘spose. I’ll let ya know when he gets here.”     
  
Cobblepot was not an attractive man. He stood approximately at five feet, six inches and was quite obese to the point where he waddled a little while he walked. He had a thin hooked nose which stuck out awkwardly from his face. He did try to make up for it though. He was wearing a fine cut tuxedo with his pale graying blond hair slicked back with pomade. He was smoking a cigar; the stink of it made Nightwing gag.  
  
Nightwing could see why they called him the Penguin. He also saw why he would take offense to that so they only did it behind his back.  
  
He watched Ozzy and his men shuffle in. Ozzy took a seat at the far end of the table. the six other men sat at the other chairs, some brandishing weapons.  
  
“Now, Boss. What’s all this about? ”One of the men asked in earnest “I’ve been playin’ messenger boy to you and Sionis for almost two weeks now and the psycho almost cut my hand off.”  
  
Ozzy sighed, taking a puff if his cigar.  
  
“You will hear soon enough when Mr. Sionis arrives.”  
  
A few minutes later, Matches poked his head into the door. He was wearing a fedora and brown-tinted aviator sunglasses, with his trademark matchstick sticking out of his mouth. Nightwing could see the beginnings of a pea-green tweed jacket which vaguely reminded him of the Exorcist. _Vomit._  
  
He really needed to stop comparing everything to puke.  
  
“Boss? He’s here... at least I think so.”  
  
“What do you mean _you think so?”_  
  
“Well, he says he’s Sionis but he’s wearin’ a mask that’s coverin’ his fa-.”  
  
Cobblebot rolled his eyes.  
  
“That’s him, you stupid _twat.”_    
  
Nightwing was aware of Sionis’ mask fetish despite never seeing him with one in person, rumor had it that he wore an ebony wood mask carved in the shape of a skull over his face; and that he forced all of his men to wear masks as well; sort of like how the Joker did except without the clown gimmick.(which was good, because ever since then he was kind of scared of clowns) Nightwing had tangoed with several of his men and could hold true the second statement.  
  
Nightwing decided that Sionis was a class A whackjob; his mind obviously warped in some way. Some said that he’d always been off, ever since he was a boy. That he’d killed his own parents or something, they’d died in a mysterious house fire.  
  
Matches fucked off and suddenly he heard a yelp, and the sound of a body hitting the adjacent wall. One of the paintings  wobbled slightly. Nightwing hoped Matches was alright. When a feeble “fuck you”  followed he felt slightly relieved.  
  
“Excuse me.” Murmured a voice, as Sionis entered the room with six of his men.  
  
Blake had seen pictures of Sionis without that stupid mask on his face. He was tall, dark, and broad with a strong jaw and thick features.  
  
He was actually very handsome. Why did all the hot ones insist on covering their faces up?  
  
Well, at least Bane had a reason for it.  
  
 _Bane is back. What are you going to do about it?_  
  
Nightwing shifted his weight slightly, full of nervous energy which made the vent groan and one of the mooks start to glance around. Bane was still nagging the back of his mind, but he needed to focus on the task at hand. If he kept moving around they'd hear him.  
  
Sionis was wearing a flashy white pinstriped suit with a dark shirt underneath. His wooden mask neatly strapped to his face. His men were wearing different masks as well. Nightwing watched as he and his men took their respective seats on the opposite end of the table; all seats were filled.  
  
“Good evening Mr. Cobblepot.”  
  
“Same to you Mr. Sionis.”  
  
Nightwing saw how their men shifted uncomfortably, the animosity was so strong in the room he swore he could cut it with a knife.  
  
“So, you finished analysing it?” Sionis growled  
  
“If you are referring to the shattered lens found at the scene of that _ghastly_ kidnapping, then yes, Mr. Sionis. I have.”  
  
Nightwing felt his gut drop a little. He’d remembered the lens getting blasted when he’d rescued Kristina. But in his haste to save her life he never picked up the pieces he’d left behind. One of either Cobblepot’s or Sionis’ men must have collected it.  
  
Which meant there were moles in the GCPD. Gordon needed to know.  
  
“Well?”  
  
“Military grade. I’m assuming our newest annoyance is either a genius or quite wealthy.” Cobblepot replied, taking another puff of his cigar. “The glass was bulletproof- and I am sure that such equipment would have infrared and night vision features.”  
  
For someone who made a living smuggling weapons; Cobblepot sure knew his shit. Sionis nodded slowly.  
  
“You can jam that stuff right?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“I want a thousand jammers then, for my men. That little _cunt_ , has been fucking with my business for far too long.”  
  
Nightwing’s jaw clenched in rage. He hated that word, hated it. And he’d been called it twice within the span of a year.  
  
Cobblepot laughed at him.  
  
“You’d really think I’d do business with you? After one of your outfits robbed one of my shipments and ratted out the crew to the cops? My _arse_ you will.”  
  
“I paid you to analyse this, I’ll pay you for the jammers.”  
  
“No. No no no, Roman I don’t think you understand. You’ll have to make up for the damage you’ve caused my operations. Money isn’t going to be enough.”  
  
Sionis muttered curses under his breath.  
  
“Fine. What else do you want?”  
  
Cobblepot puffed his cigar and leaned back in his chair. Triumphant.  
  
“I want complete control of your drug operations in Hinkley and South Channel Island, and your...” He cleared his throat. “... _lovely_ joint with the ladies up in Farrow.”  
  
Sionis growled in annoyance.  
  
“No fucking way.”  
  
“Final offer, _Black Mask_.”  
  
“Shove it up your ass, _Penguin_.”  
  
Nightwing watched them haggle, and bicker while their men readied their weapons. He would be laughing if he wasn’t preoccupied with remaining hidden. Suddenly the vent groaned again and they paused. Sionis  looked upwards towards the grate in the ceiling. Nightwing froze, cursing himself internally.    
  
“What. Was that?” He whispered.  
  
“Boss-- Mr. Cobblepot!”  
  
Suddenly, Matches burst through the door with a terrified expression on his face. All fourteen men turned to the hideously dressed undercover mook with an alarmed expression.  
  
“I found Coots and Leon knocked out upstairs. Nightwing’s here! _You gotta bail!_ ”  
  
Sionis whipped out a pistol without fanfare and aimed it directly at the grate where Nightwing was currently situated. At that same moment, Nightwing hit the EMP on his belt; shrouding the room in darkness before bursting out of the vent towards the door.  
  
There were shouts, swearing and gunfire. Nightwing shivered; remembering a similar situation but ignored it. He was just going to haul ass out of here without fucking with anyone. He learned his lesson the first time.  
  
He shoved past one of Sionis’ mooks and brushed past Matches, who started chasing after him; obviously trying to keep his cover.  
  
“Find Isis, she knows a passage into the sewers. You’ll be home free from there.” He whispered, surprisingly keeping in step with him.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
“I like your new look, shame about the cape though, I always liked that thing.”  
  
Nightwing turned in shock but Matches had already fallen flat on his face; his aviators shattered on the marble flooring; playing K.O.  
  
He bolted up the stairs, dispatching goons left and right. It wasn’t long before he found Isis, in a black and white cocktail dress. She had a lovely string of pearls around her neck, and was running towards him in six inch heels.  
  
Running. _Six. Inch. Heels_.  
  
 _Jesus Christ._  
  
“C'mon, this way.”  
  
Her voice wasn’t high and shrill like it was earlier. It had lowered to a smoother silkier voice; he swore he had heard it before. Nightwing turned to follow her when he felt a bullet rip into his upper shoulder, he swore in pain, gripping the wound. Isis pulled a pistol from the garter under her dress and gunned down the mook that had shot him; blowing her cover.  
  
“Fuck...” he hissed.  
  
“You’ll live. Let’s go.”  
  
“What about-”  
  
“We’ll be fine.”  
  
He followed her, clutching his wound with his left hand and brandishing an electrified baton in the other. Any men who crossed them were quickly smacked or shot down. She led him through the kitchens and into a large room with wine racks hung on the wall. He watched as Isis pulled out a thin wire and shoved it into a small hole on the brick. There was a faint clicking noise and a portion of the wall popped out. Nightwing helped her pull back the door, which had a worn stone staircase behind it.  
  
“This leads to the sewers. You’ll come up around Sixth.”  
  
“Thanks. Are you sure you and Matches are going to be alright?”  
  
Isis smirked at him, tilting her head.  
  
“I’ve done worse. Catch you later.”  
  
Where had he heard that voice before?  
  
She closed the door the moment he passed through, leaving Nightwing with a bleeding shoulder and a thousand questions. **  
**

* * *

Nightwing managed to find his Wingpod and head back to the cave, his shoulder aching in protest and bleeding a little. His suit had taken on the brunt of the damage but there was still a hole.  
  
Nightwing parked the Pod on the rising platform then stripped off the upper layer of his suit and goggles; becoming Blake again. He trudged into his little apartment in search of his med kit.  
  
“Master Blake?”  
  
Blake froze at the sound of a Cockney accent. He opened the door and saw Alfred _motherfucking_ Pennyworth sitting on a small chair he’d propped up in the corner where he’d read occasionally without fear of bat-guano getting on his books.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Blake asked.  
  
Alfred stood from the chair. He looked a little better than the last time Blake had seen him, but still looked like shit. His face was haggard with worry.  
  
“I was hoping Master Wayne and Miss Kyle-”  
  
 _What._  
  
“What?” Blake interrupted.  
  
Alfred searched his face for a moment, his blue eyes wide and confused.  
  
“He never told you?”  
  
The man was around eighty years old. He could be suffering from dementia or something. It couldn’t be it just...  
  
“Bruce is dead. He _died_ Alfred.”    
  
Alfred shook his head, a small smile on his face.  
  
“I can’t believe he didn’t tell you, the man he chose to take his place. He ejected shortly before flying over the bridge; he’d repaired the autopilot.”  
  
Blake frowned, his heart racing. Gordon said Bruce had told him there was no autopilot on the Bat before flying off.  
  
 _What. The fuck._  
  
“You mean, he’s really alive?”  
  
Alfred smiled weakly and nodded.  
  
“And absconded with Miss Kyle; using the Clean Slate. He sends me cards on Birthdays and Holidays- no return adress of course.”  
  
Blake had heard about the Clean Slate while dinking around on the Supercomputer. So Bruce and Selina had used it? _They were ALIVE!?”_  
  
Bruce was alive. Bruce fucking Wayne was alive _this whole fucking time._  
  
What. The  _MOTHERFUCKING_ Fuck.  
  
Suddenly the image of Matches flashed in his head.  
  
 _“I like your new look, shame about the cape though, I always liked that thing.”_  
  
No. Fucking. Way.  
  
Blake sat down on the bed; forgetting his bleeding shoulder. Alfred noticed and shuffled into the bathroom. He came out with his med kit. He sat down next to Blake and started cleaning off his wound, making Blake wince as he skillfully plucked out the bullet and dabbed disinfectant on the hole.  
  
“Don’t worry Master Blake; I’ve done this plenty of times before.”  
  
“Why are you looking for Bruce?” He asked suddenly.  
  
Alfred’s face darkened for a moment.  
  
“Four months ago. I was at my winter cottage when I received a knock at the door. It was near suppertime and I was expecting my cousin and her husband over so I rushed to answer it.”    
  
Alfred paused for a moment, swallowing nervously as he prepared a sterilised needle to sew up Blake’s wound. Blake grimaced. He still didn’t like needles.  
  
“Bane, was on my doorstep.”  
  
Blake felt his whole body go rigid and start shaking. He saw the look on Alfred’s face.  
  
“Did he hurt you?” He asked softly, he didn’t want ask but he had to make sure. If Bane had hurt someone like Alfred all bets were off; he was going to face justice.  
  
“No. He was rather polite, for an extremist. He asked if he could come in, then questioned me about the whereabouts of Master Wayne.”  
  
Blake felt a part of him sigh with relief and another squawk with terror. So that’s why he left. He’d gone on a four month manhunt in search of Bruce. He’d most likely come back to Gotham because he found out Bruce had been in disguise and working with the GCPD.  
  
“Did you tell him anything?”  
  
“No. I knew that Bane was planning on killing him so I said nothing. He congratulated me on my loyalty then left. He took some of the strawberry scones that I’d made for my Cousins too, _the nerve_.”  
  
Blake almost told Alfred about Bane’s love for Strawberries, but decided now was not the opportune time.  
  
“A week later that incident occurred in São Paulo. You know, the hotel that burnt down?”  
  
Blake frowned. He had heard bits and pieces of it but didn’t understand why that was relevant. São Paulo, was not Gotham.  
  
Wait a minute.  
  
 _“One of the suspects seen fleeing the scene appeared to be male, six foot four, roughly two hundred and twenty pounds, with a hood concealing his face. Said local witnesses.”_  
  
He’d been so worked up over Kristina he’d never paid attention- _Jesus fucking Christ_ he was so stupid.  
  
“He found Bruce and Selina there didn’t he?”  
  
“I’m assuming so, yes. I’m also assuming their scuffle burnt the hotel down.” Alfred replied, while finishing the final stitch in Blake’s shoulder. “Master Wayne called me afterwards. He told me he was heading back to Gotham- said it would be the last place Bane would look. He and Miss Kyle have been working undercover ever since.”  
  
Blake remembered chasing after them while they were disguised as Matches and Isis back in late November. What would have happened if he’d managed to catch up to them? Would Bruce have kicked his ass?

Most likely.  
  
“Why are you here then?” Blake asked.  
  
Alfred smiled softly.  
  
“I was getting worried about Bruce. I decided that he may have contacted you- and was staying here. The people upstairs never did bother changing the locks so I let myself in after the children were all put to bed. I found you an hour later.”  
  
“So, you’re just worried about him.”  
  
Alfred nodded slowly and averted his eyes.  
  
“I raised him, you know. His parents never bothered with a sitter or nanny and after they died they entrusted him to me. He’s the son I never had, no matter how difficult. I know he and I had our differences here and there but I won’t let some mass-murdering terrorist take him away after he’d finally managed to find peace.”  
  
Blake nodded.  
  
“He won’t. I promise.”

* * *

Alfred made Blake some tea, which was left over from when Bane used to visit (Blake was usually a staunch coffee drinker). Sometimes, before all this shit went down they’d have lunch together. Bane as it turns out, was also a tea snob. Alfred marveled at Blake’s taste and he just smiled and nodded.  
  
Blake also noticed the double barrel shotgun propped up against the supercomputer. Alfred simply stated he had bought it “just in case”  
  
As he sipped his tea (it was surprisingly good once he’d drowned it in cream and sugar) and chatted with Alfred, his mind was fuming. He was pissed off at Bane all over again; for a completely different reason. Bane had simply walked off to go get revenge on one of Blake’s friends. Heck, he probably knew that Blake wouldn’t allow it so he didn’t even bother to tell him.  
  
And Bruce, the selfish prick. He went and pretended to sacrifice himself for the city then ran off with Selina _fucking_ Kyle for an extended vacation while Blake fumbled around in his old suit getting his ass kicked.  
  
This whole situation that Blake was now in could have been completley avoided if Bruce had decided to stick around and teach him a thing or two before retiring.  
  
He made Alfred (who Blake was quickly growing to like the more they talked) _cry_ goddamnit. He’d gone to his fucking funeral and saw the man _bawling_.  
  
When he ran into Bruce again; he was going to get a piece of his fucking mind the same way he’d given one to Hallucibane.  
  
“It was a fundraiser, I couldn’t remember what for but right in the middle of the party he suddenly started taking off his clothes for no reason- in front of the _Governor!_ ”  
  
Blake couldn’t help but laugh and almost spilled his tea however, while Alfred continued  his hilarious anecdote about the adventures of three-year-old Bruce Wayne: stripper in training, he heard a thunk from the elevator shaft.  
  
Shit.  
  
“Alfred...”  
  
“His father, mother, and I chased him as he ran about the halls naked as the day he was-”  
  
“Alfred!”  
  
Alfred paused, his mirthful expression faded in an instant.  
  
“I think you should get inside the apartment.” Blake stated quietly.  
  
“He’s here?”  
  
“I think so.”  
  
Alfred set down his cup of tea, then stiffly walked over to where his shotgun was propped up. He watched as the man plucked two buckshot shells from his waistcoat pocket and stuffed them in the chamber. Blake’s eyes widened at how expertly he held the weapon.  
  
“I used to serve the British Military before I replaced my father as the Wayne Family Butler.” He stated simply. “If you can’t handle him, I will.”  
  
Blake swallowed nervously then nodded, reaching for the upper part of his suit and goggles. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but after all he had heard he needed to be prepared for anything. He’d seen enough people get shot already.  
  
Alfred moved back to the apartment, clutching the shotgun against his chest. Blake had just finished strapping on the goggles when he heard a shout.  
  
“Stay back!”  
  
Double shit.  
  
In an instant, Blake came running, seeing Alfred aiming the gun at Bane, who stood quite alarmed at the mouth of the elevator.  
  
Fuck his face in half.  
  
“Don’t shoot!” He shouted, stepping in between a livid Alfred and an even more livid Bane.  
  
He hadn’t changed much. In fact, he didn’t look different at all. He stood there in his fluffy winter coat with Blake’s favorite tight-fitting dark shirt underneath. His braces, his grey cargo pants, massive combat boots.  
  
It was Bane. Through and through.  
  
“What is this?” Bane asked, his voice low.  
  
Alfred cocked the shotgun, bracing himself for an attack. Blake stepped forward.  
  
“After all this time, that’s what you say to me? _What is this?_ What the _fuck_ do you think this is huh?”  
  
He saw Alfred raise his eyebrows in surprise, he lowered the gun for a moment but Bane took a step forward so he raised it up again.  
  
“Why is _he_ here?” He asked, nodding to Alfred.   
  
“Why the fuck do you think Einstein? You came to his house demanding where Bruce Wayne was, he got worried.”  
  
“That was four months ago, and I did not hurt him.”  
  
“You scared him. He’s raised Bruce since he was a kid, protected him his entire life and you think that he wouldn’t be a little upset knowing that you want to kill the guy that’s practically his own son?”  
  
Bane’s frown vanished. He looked from Alfred back to Blake, his eyes seemed confused- no. He understood.  
  
“I see.” He said, surprisingly sympathetic.  
  
 _What. The hell. Was going on?_  
  
“Why are you here Bane?”  
  
“I wished to speak with you.”  
  
Blake rolled his eyes, but then remembered they were covered with his goggles so no one could see. He pulled them off in frustration and swore under his breath. Alfred was gawking now, not believing what he was seeing. He hoped the guy didn’t have a heart attack.  
  
“I know why you left, I understand why you didn’t tell me about it. What more do you want Bane? I’m not going to let you hurt Bruce, Alfred, or Selina so just get out of Gotham before-”  
  
“You think I came back for Mister Wayne?”  
  
Blake frowned again, Alfred had set aside the shotgun; propping it against the wall of the cave and still gawping.  
  
“Uh... _yeah_ you left so you could kill him, why else would you want to come back?”    
  
Bane blinked for a moment then tilted his head.  
  
“I came back for you.”  
  
Suddenly, he lunged and kicked away Alfred’s gun before he could grab it again. . Before Blake could react, Bane had gripped a nerve in his neck and pinched. He was out in an instant. **  
**

* * *

Blake moaned, his head throbbing. He shifted his body and his shoulder stung in protest.  
  
Wait.  
  
He was naked.  
  
 _Why was he naked?_  
  
Blake sat up. He was in a nest of decorative throw pillows and blankets. He looked up and realised he was underground in what looked like an old speakeasy; Gotham was full of them, but they were usually taken over by the Mob; someone must have chased them out of this one. There was a fire burning in an old stone hearth on the wall with a ornate rug spread out over the floor.  He saw a small table (with pieces of his suit strewn on top of it, which explained the nakedness) and chairs as well as several crates strewn about.  
  
Bane’s new lair.  
  
He glanced around, then spotted Bane himself sitting on the foot of the bed; playing with his goggles.  
  
“What the fuck are you doing?” Blake hissed.  
  
Bane turned, his eyes were a mixture of relieved and upset.  
  
“I know you never wish to speak to me again-”  
  
“What. The _fuck._ Are you doing?”  
  
Bane blinked in surprise, his eyebrows raised.  
  
“I said I wanted to speak with you.”  
  
“What is there for you to say, that I haven’t already heard?” Blake hissed. “And stop messing with that!”  
  
Bane obediently stood and put the goggles on the table with his suit before returning with a small cup of water and eagerly handed it to Blake, who cautiously accepted.  
  
“You think I returned to kill Bruce Wayne?” Bane asked while sitting down next to Blake on the bed.  
  
“Uh, yeah?”  
  
Bane nodded and averted his eyes.  
  
“That is why I had left, but not why I had returned.”  
  
“Why did you come back then?”  
  
“I said I came back for you. I saw the footage of you and that small child- I...”  
  
Bane lowered his head while Blake looked on in shock.  
  
“I heard the hurt and fear in your voice. I thought of you alone...”  
  
He shook his head, averting his face so Blake couldn’t see.  
  
“It took me three days to get back into Gotham. By the time I had found you-”  
  
He paused, shifting uncomfortably.  
  
“You said you didn’t want me there. You told me to leave.”  
  
“Uh... no I di-”  
  
Wait.  
  
Blake nearly dropped the cup onto the floor, his face went chalk-white. The warehouse. He thought it had been a hallucination.  
  
“Oh my god.”  
  
Blake had wanted so badly to say those things to Bane at the time. But he had been sick and traumatized. After he had rested and healed the thought of such words made him sick. He had been wounded and scathing; bluffing because of his hurt.  
  
“You were ill and hallucinating, most likely from lack of sleep. But you told me how much I had hurt you. You threatened me if I dared touch you.”  
  
“Bane I’m sor-”  
  
“I told you once not to apologise for the truth, Robin. You hate me for what I have done. I hurt you deeply.”  
  
“Yeah, I’m pissed at you, but that doesn’t mean I hate you.” Blake retorted.  
  
Bane turned to look at him, his eyes were watering. Was he crying? Jesus, he’d made Bane fucking _cry_.    
  
“You do not-”  
  
 _“I love you.”_ Blake blurted out. “I’ve never cared for a person this way before and when you left I blamed myself. I thought I had done something to piss you off. You see Bane, my whole life people have used me and left. And I’ve just kept blaming myself because I cared so deeply for them and couldn’t see their flaws. Yeah, you hurt me and yeah I’m still mad but-”  
  
He stopped talking when he saw the look on Bane’s face. It was a look of wonder, like a kid looking through a telescope for the first time and seeing the face of the moon.  
  
“You said you love me.”  
  
Had he said that? He had meant to say “I care about you.” but he had become a classic victim of the freudian slip. And to be honest, (If he was feeling like being honest with himself) He was right. He did love Bane despite his dickish behavior.  
  
His middle name might as well be “Welcome” because he was a fucking doormat.  
  
“Uh... yeah?”  
  
Suddenly Blake was pulled tight against Bane’s chest in the most vicious bearhug he had ever experienced in his life. Blake’s arms were pinned so he couldn’t hug back so he just buried his face into his thick neck.  
  
“I also said I’m still kind of mad at you.” He murmured.  
  
Bane released him immediately. Blake scooted back and settled in the pillows.  
  
“Because I left?”  
  
“Because you left, then you terrorised Alfred, and you tried to kill some of my friends.”  
  
“I did not _terrorise_ Mr. Pennyworth.” Bane retorted. “Why would I hurt such a man?”  
  
“You were planning on killing Bruce, that scared him enough.”  
  
Bane froze for a moment, then nodded, he scooted away a little, but reached out to grab Blake’s wrist which decided to allow, he did love the man after all.  
  
“While I was helping you return Bruce’s armor I noticed a tear, you did not know where it came from, but _I_ did. You see Blake, I was there when Mr. Wayne was stabbed; back at City Hall during final day of the Occupation.”  
  
Oh, it made sense. Bruce would have been stabbed then ran off to secure the bomb. If he had died, the suit with the tear would have been incinerated with his body.  
  
“Talia was the one who did it.” Bane continued. “Then she left me to guard Bruce. But I knew if he had managed to come back after I had broken him, then leaving him alive for a second longer would only risk failure. So I put a gun to his head. But, before I could finish him Miss Kyle arrived and the next thing I knew I was thrown against the wall with pieces of my body missing; as you already know.”  
  
Blake was about to ask who Talia was but something clicked in his head.  
  
 _Miranda Tate._  
  
He saw the pained look in Bane’s eyes and realised something.  
  
“You cared for her?” He asked hopefully.  
  
“I loved her.” Bane replied. “You remind me of her, sometimes. I did not want to admit it but you have her tenacity-- and her temper when she chose to show its face which; was much less often than you.”  
  
Bane laughed hoarsely.  
  
“Your friend, Bruce, _killed_ her. Like with Ra’s he did not do it directly, but he drove her to her death all the same.”  
  
“Wouldn’t it not have mattered? I mean, if that bomb went off she would have-”  
  
Bane squeezed Blake’s wrist sharply until he could feel his bones grinding together.  
  
“She devoted a third of her life to ensure her Ra’s: her father's work was completed. Her death would have been justified knowing the world would have become a better place.”  
  
So, like father like daughter eh? He hoped Ra’s didn’t have any other children.  
  
“How would killing twelve million people solve any problems in the world?” Blake asked, ignoring the pain in his wrist.  
  
Bane looked at him, his eyes were still watery and bloodshot.  
  
“It was what she _wanted_. I pledged that she would want for nothing as long as I was living. I relished in the destruction of your City; tearing down the corrupt and their allies. I knew the deaths of those who were truly innocent would be swift and painless. Besides, Gotham’s security from before was built on a lie which _oppressed_ it’s people even further, despite its good intentions.”  
  
Blake stared at him numbly.  
  
“Things in Gotham are still bad; but at least no one is being _abused_ because a lie. And I no longer wish to destroy it because it is _yours_. And you wish to protect it and all innocents. So the only way I could enact justice for her death was to destroy Bruce Wayne himself.”  
  
Blake blinked for a moment then looked down.  
  
“Don’t kill him-- _please_ don’t. I know he would have saved Talia if he could.”  
  
“I know about Bruce and Talia.” Bane snapped bitterly. “I should have cut off his penis when I had the chance.”  
  
Whoah.  
  
Not to self. Do not cheat on Bane, _ever._  
  
“She slept with Bruce?” Blake asked, dumbfounded.    
  
No wonder the guy had a grudge. He loved a woman so much he was willing to kill himself, and twelve million other people just because she wanted it. And then she goes and sleeps with the only man capable of stopping them.  
  
“It was for a just cause, to lull him into a false sense of security.” Bane retorted, but his voice sounded injured. “She did not love him.”  
  
 _Obviously._ She stabbed him and tried to nuke his city.  
  
“Did she love you?” He asked.  
  
Bane turned to him again, his eyes crinkled slightly.  
  
“I do not doubt it.” He replied. “I sacrificed my well being for her. This mask on my face is there because I chose to protect her from men who would have used her until she died.”  
  
Blake nodded in understanding. But killing would _not_ be tolerated. Not in his city. He was willing to accept Bane back, bend a little for him. But Bane would not kill Bruce Wayne as long as Blake himself was still living   
  
“I understand, Bane. But you can’t do it. You know you guys could have just snuck out and nuked the place, but she had you both stay behind. Maybe she just wanted to die.”  
  
Bane frowned for a moment, then laughed softly.  
  
“I kept trying to tell her that, to persuade her to live near the end. She would not listen. Our life was always harsh, perhaps she was just... tired of living on this cruel Earth.”  
  
Bane blinked for a moment, his tears were starting to dribble down his cheeks. Blake reached out and tugged on his arm, it was definitely time for make-up cuddles despite still being a little pissed off. Bane melted on top of him; pressing the eerily warm mouthpiece of his mask into the crook of Blake’s neck. His breath was ragged; most likely from grief.  
  
They lay like that for a time, Blake traced his eyebrows and ran his hands down the slope of his back; feeling the knotted flesh from the scarring beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. Bane’s breath slowed and he relaxed with a soft rumble as he reached up to wind his finger’s in Blake’s hair.  
  
Suddenly, there was a loud crash.  
  
 _“BANE!”_ Shouted a deep raspy voice.  
  
Oh Jesus-Fuck.  
  
Bane shot up just in time for Batman to pounce on him; knocking the surprised ex-terrorist on the floor.  
  
“How DARE you put your hands on him!” He snarled.  
  
Bane kicked Batman square in the stomach before he could be pinned then rolled to his feet. His eyes wild. They flew at each other, their fists swinging and shouting curses in English, Spanish, and in what Blake assumed was Chinese.  
  
Blake was dumbfounded for a moment before he felt a warm hand on his upper arm.  
  
It was Selina, sans raccoon makeup and bleached hair. Her real hair was cropped short in a neat pixie cut, which meant that ghastly platinum hair was a wig. She was wearing her catsuit with serrated heels.  
  
Blake decided if he were bi or straight,  that Selina would be the type of woman he’d go for.  
  
“You alright?”  
  
Blake nodded.  
  
“Yeah. You?”  
  
“Fine. Can you walk?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Did he rape you?” She asked suddenly as she guided him from the bed.  
  
Blake remembered he was quite naked. Selina didn’t seem to care. But due to the few interactions they were allowed he had dubbed her as someone who was not a known giver of fucks.  
  
“No. I wanted it.” Blake replied, “We have to get them to stop before they hurt each other.”  
  
Selina cocked an eyebrow at him but said nothing.  
  
“Bruce thinks he raped you, or at least he was going to, you being kidnapped and all. Alfred was mortified.”  
  
Blake watched helplessly as they pounded into each other. Batman’s mouth was bleeding and Bane had a scrape on his neck from the gauntlets on his wrist.  
  
“I don’t care, they need to stop!”  
  
Bane grabbed Batman and tossed him against the wall, Batman staggered then tackled Bane head on. Bats was laying into him; going for the mask which Bane protected viciously.  
  
“You need to get to safety, or at least some _pants?_ ”

Huh, so she _did_ care.   
  
Fuck pants. _Blake was going commando._  
  
“Bruce, Bane! Stop it!”  
  
They ignored him. Obviously. Blake was pissed. Right after he’d talked Bane out of killing Bruce, the man had decided to show up out of nowhere and attack him. _Christ._  
  
Without thinking, he got in the middle of it despite Selina’s protests. He didn’t remember who hit him or why. He just remembered stumbling onto the floor and blacking out. **  
  
**

* * *

“Bane, let me see.”  
  
“I dare you to touch him. I will sever your fingers. _All of them._ He is the only one reason why you both are still alive.”  
  
“Boys, At least put some pants on him.”  
  
“Selina, he has a blanket.”  
  
Blake blinked for a moment; his head throbbing anew and much worse. He was laying on something firm, and sickeningly warm. There was something wrapped around his chest.  
  
As it turned out he was on his back, flush with Bane’s belly with a blanket strewn over his unmentionables. Bane was clutching him protectively, keeping him as far away from a very concerned Bruce Wayne sans cowl and pedo-stache.  
  
He had shaved it off. _Thank god._  
  
“You’re awake.” Bruce said with a weak smile.    
  
“Screw you.” Blake moaned. “Who the _fuck_ punched me?”    
  
“Your boyfriend.” Selina drawled while straddling one of Bane’s chairs. “You should have seen the look on his face afterwards.”  
  
“Fuck you too Selina.”  
  
She laughed and shook her head.  
  
“Are you okay?” Bruce asked.  
  
“Yeah, just _peachy._ ” Blake snapped sarcastically.  
  
“We came back to the cave after we lost Sionis and Cobblepot.” Bruce explained. “Alfred was terrified, saying Bane had showed up and kidnapped you. I got my old Armor from Fox and we went after him.” Bruce explained. “I saw him on top of you, and well...”  
  
Bruce was squirming in his seat near the bed. He seemed pretty baffled that Blake was having consensual sex with Bane. Selina just thought it was amusing.  
  
“He taught me how to fight, you know.” Blake said. “I would have died without his help. Unlike SOMEONE who just decided to fake his death and just fuck off. I could have _died_ you know.”  
  
Bruce flinched, but was unperturbed.  
  
“So you repay him by letting him have sex with you.”  
  
Blake felt Bane tense in anger.  
  
“No, I let him fuck me because I think he’s attractive.” Blake snapped.  
  
Selina cocked an eyebrow. Bruce’s mouth was pursed in a thin line. He didn’t have to look up to see Bane’s triumphant expression.  
  
“You don’t get to judge me. I know about the _gay porn_ you left on your computer. I also know you had an _astute_ aversion to clothing from ages one to six and performed a _toddler strip-tease_ for the Governor.”  
  
Bruce’s face suddenly turned a deep shade of red. Selina burst out laughing. Bane was positively sneering  now, he could feel it.  
  
 _“John-”_  
  
“You didn’t tell me you were bisexual _sweetheart._ ” Selina interjected, cutting Bruce off.   
  
“I didn’t think it was relevant.” Bruce hissed.  
  
She rocked her chair, smirking while Bane started to gingerly play with Blake’s hair in the place that wasn’t swelled to the size of a goose egg.  
  
“I am surprised at you, Mister Wayne.” Bane replied mockingly.  
  
“Shut up.” Bruce snapped. “You tried to kill me and broke my leg brace, _you set a whole hotel on fire.”_  
  
“Maybe you should not have strewn lit candles throughout your suite.” Bane retorted, “Or kept them so close to the bar, filled with _flammable liquids._ ”  
  
“Oops.” Selina put in. She looked like she was having a field day despite the fact that Bane had tried to kill her four months earlier.  
  
“You tried to bash me over the head with a bottle of vodka.” Bruce snapped.  
  
“You slept with Talia!” Bane shot back.  
  
Boy, that escalated quickly.  
  
“If I knew who she was I wouldn’t have _touched_ her.” Bruce hissed. “And you’ve corrupted-”  
  
Bane interrupted him with a phrase in Chinese. Bruce talked over him and soon they were both bickering in a completely different language, leaving Blake and Selina the confused spectators. Bruce was gesturing wildly and Bane pulled Blake even closer, snapping back like a roaring lion.  
  
 _“ENOUGH!”_ Blake shouted, as his wounded head screamed in protest.  
  
Both men stopped for a moment and stared at Blake in shock. Selina started clapping in approval.  
  
“I don’t give a shit who did what to whoever anymore, okay? Both of you are colossal assholes and have done stupid shit to each other, and to me. I’m willing to forgive both of you, but it’s really hard when you keep lunging at each other’s throats like _fucking animals!”_  
  
Bruce stared at him dumbfoundedly, Blake wiggled a little of of Bane’s protective grasp so he could see the shocked expression on his face.  
  
“Now, as long as you’re both here in _my_ city-”  
  
Bruce opened his mouth to protest but Blake shushed him.  
  
“Yeah Bruce, it’s mine. _You_ left it to me. And as long as you stay here you’re going to play by _my_ rules okay? And I say grow the fuck up and stop trying to beat the shit out of each other. If you can’t do that then _get the fuck out.”_  
  
Bruce was frowning, but he nodded slowly. Bane nodded too, slightly more agreeable.  
  
“As long as Bane doesn’t hurt any civilians, or kill anyone and I mean _anyone_. I’ll tolerate him here and accept your... rules while I’m in Gotham.” Bruce countered. “The minute I hear he’s done either I will see him brought to justice for his crimes.”  
  
“Fair enough.” Blake replied.

* * *

Bruce and Selina stayed in Gotham for a couple more weeks before leaving for England with Alfred. They seemed pretty alarmed at Blake’s living in the Cave so Selina talked Bruce into buying him an apartment; a nice one with exclusive parking and it’s own washer and dryer in the unit.  
  
Buy. Which meant no rent. _Ever._  
  
He still had to pay for utilities though, which meant he did need a job after being fired from the bookstore and all.   
  
Luckily, Gordon set him up with one of his retired cop friends who taught self-defense classes. It was good pay and Blake was glad that this way he could help the citizens of Gotham even more.  
  
He still visited the kids at St. Swithin’s, and even coached ball from time to time when he could. He had dinner with Gordon and Sarah every couple weeks; they were very diligent with staying in contact with him.  
  
Bane was a little more amicable than usual. Blake figured it was because he still felt like he needed to make it up for ditching him even though Blake was no longer pissed off (although he did threaten that if Bane ever pulled a stunt like that again that they would be _over_ ). He helped Blake as often as he could with his investigations and made damn sure that those signal jammers Cobblepot was talking about  never made it into anyone’s hands. Bane was absolutely delighted to undertake the task. He took pleasure in destroying every shipment Cobblepot tried to smuggle into Gotham to the point the man just gave up.  
  
Blake was climbing up the stairs on his way to his apartment. He was done with work and completely exhausted.  
  
As much as he liked his apartment, he didn’t have enough money yet to buy any new furniture. So there was nothing there except for the twin mattress he’d smuggled up from the Cave and some blankets.  
  
So when he opened the door he was quite shocked to see the place fully-furnished and smelling like coconut curry.  
  
The furniture wasn’t new; most of it looked worn. But it was nice looking; maybe some of them were antiques. There was an assortment of rugs covering the wood floor which had ornate patterns on them and also looked well-loved, but not stained.  
  
Blake was still confused on where Bane got all the money to pay for this; the furniture was clearly in his taste so he was the obvious culprit.  
  
Blake wandered into the kitchen to see Bane unmasked and in an apron spooning the curry onto plates next to a bed of rice.  
  
A fucking apron.  
  
His cock twitched a little.  
  
He trudged up to Bane and slipped his arms around the man’s waist; burying his face in between his shoulder blades.  
  
“Thank you.” He murmured.  
  
“It was nothing.” Bane replied before setting two plates down so he could turn and kiss Blake gently on the mouth.  
  
Blake kissed back greedily and held on when Bane tried to pull away, making Bane groan.  
  
“We must eat.” Bane simply told him when Blake finally let him go.  
  
As it turned out, Bane injected himself a few minutes before Blake arrived home so they had plenty of time to eat and talk. The food was delicious as always.  
  
But, it was very distracting because Bane kept nudging him with his feet under the table. It was clear he had more in mind than just a nice supper.  
  
Fine by him.  
  
After they had put the plates it the dishwasher (which Bane confessed to never having used in his life) Bane gabbed Blake by the hand and led him into the bedroom.  
  
There was a king-size bed replacing his old twin, which Bane confessed to throwing out. It was set on a lovely antique frame and covered with several quilts and decorative pillows.  
  
“What’s with you and pillows?”

“I like them.” Bane replied. “They are soft.”  
  
Bane then turned and kissed Blake on the mouth; a low growl escaping his throat (he was a phenomenally better kisser now than when they first were able to do it). Blake returned the kiss and pressed himself against him, feeling the arousal rising underneath the fabric of his pants. Bane leaned back and guided them both to the bed, falling back onto it so Blake was sprawled on top of him.  
  
“I want to try something.” Bane growled into his ear.  
  
“Yeah?” Blake replied while biting his plump lower lip which made Bane moan in appreciation.    
  
“I wish for you to take me.”  
  
Blake paused mid-kiss and looked Bane in the eye.  
  
“You want _me_ to _fuck_ you?”  
  
“Of course, my Robin.”  
  
Blake didn’t know how to feel. His cock seemed all for it but it was confusing. Usually when it came to sex Bane was very dominant and feral (he never seriously hurt Blake, at the most his ass would be sore and he’d have bruises where Bane had held onto him while he fucked him into the mattress, or floor, or wherever)  
  
Bane behaving more cooperatively in the bedroom was fairly new, and sort of unthinkable.  
  
“Are you sure?” Blake asked.  
  
Bane laughed, sans mask his laugh was deep and hearty without that terrible scraping sound. It was lovely.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Blake didn’t think he needed anymore convincing than that. They had roughly an hour and a half to do this and he didn’t want to waste time negotiating. He leaned down and attacked Bane’s mouth again, which made him groan in appreciation.  
  
They both stripped down to nothing, groping, licking, and biting at each other’s flesh. Blake let out a low moan when Bane started grinding their cocks together while mouthing at the crook of his neck.  
  
Somehow in their frenzied foreplay Bane ended up on his back again amidst the nest of pillows while Blake mouthed  at his chest and collar bone, dragging his lips and tongue over the scarred flesh while Bane growled in appreciation then reached down to cup his ass.  
  
Suddenly, he heard a thunk and realised Bane was fumbling for something hidden in the drawers of his new nightstand with his free hand. Blake laughed softly and pulled open the drawer to see a fresh bottle of lube. He smiled then leaned down to attack Bane’s mouth before dragging his tongue down to his navel to begin preparing him.  
  
He was still surprised when Bane obediently spread his thighs with a soft growl, his head lolled back and his eyes half-shut. He still couldn’t believe Bane was letting him do this.  
  
He licked up the shaft of Bane’s cock which caused him to let out a surprised groan; his beautiful mouth parting halfway in his pleasure. He fumbled with the cap of the lube for a moment before slicking his fingers and leaning in near Bane’s entrance.  
  
He glanced up again for a moment. Bane was watching him with half open eyes; still completely trusting. Blake planted licks and kisses along the sensitive flesh of Bane’s inner thighs which made him moan and the tough muscle quiver. He slowly slid one finger in, feeling Bane gasp and arch a little at the intrusion.  
  
Christ, he’s tight. His cock twitched at the thought of it.  
  
Blake prepared Bane as gently as he could, he was alarmed at how quickly he became relaxed and pliant. He must have done this before; or knew some pretty wicked breathing exercises. While his fingers opened him he licked and sucked Bane’s cock; teasing him with his tongue to help further things along.  
  
Finally, he withdrew, causing Bane to growl in disappointment. He leaned up and nudged against his ass; all slick and hot and ready for him. Blake’s breath hitched for a moment and he looked down at Bane who simply stared back; daring him to continue.  
  
He pushed in with a low moan. His tight heat wrapped around his cock. Bane’s back arched slightly with a growl, his mouth open all the way. Blake leaned forward to kiss him full on the mouth while Bane’s hands reached up to wrap around him and push upwards demandingly.  
  
Blake rocked slowly at first making Bane groan and rumble underneath him in pleasure, soon he managed to angle himself so every thrust made the man beneath him growl and shudder which meant he was hitting home.  
  
After a few minutes, Bane started to squirm beneath him in protest before finally rolling them expertly so he was straddling him. Bane leaned down to attack Blake’s mouth with a bruising kiss before sitting upright and rolling his hips, a low growl escaping him as he gripped Blake’s shoulders for purchase; effectively pinning him.  
  
Still dominant while playing bottom. _Typical._  
  
Blake loved that too.    
  
Bane was much too heavy to allow Blake to thrust up to meet him, so he simply relaxed and watched as Bane rode his cock with his eyes half-closed, his lips still parted while soft animalistic sounds left him.  
  
He sounded like a lion getting his belly rubbed, not quite like purring but something else.  
  
Blake could feel his orgasm winding and rising tight. Bane leaned down and lay out on top of him with his crushing weight, kissing him fervently and disallowing Blake to move. Suddenly, he cried out and shuddered as his release racked his body. Bane came undone a few seconds later with a low roar, his come splashing over their stomachs and chests.  
  
They lay there, sweaty, sticky but very much sated. Bane sighed with contentment as he planted small kisses all over Blake’s face and neck.  
  
“I love you.” He rumbled while nibbling a little at the shell of Blake’s ear.  
  
Blake smiled as he ran his hands down to cup Bane’s ass in affection.  
  
“I love you too.” Blake replied simply.  
  
Because it was true, despite everything the man had put him through he did.  
  
He’d never understand it.  
  
“Back in when you were ill...” Bane murmured, “Back when I found you in the warehouse.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I didn’t leave you there like you had asked; I carried you out of the Narrows, I was going to take you to a hospital  but someone recognised me, to avoid capture I left you outside the Opera House.”  
  
Blake frowned for a moment, looking into Bane’s steel grey eyes.  
  
“Why are you telling me this now?”  
  
Bane made a noncommittal sound and leaned in for more kisses. Blake guessed he only had roughly a half an hour left before he needed to put his mask on so he was making the most of it.  
  
“I do not know... I suppose to apologise for leaving you in an alley while unconscious.”  
  
Blake laughed softly.  
  
“If you hadn’t done that Gordon wouldn’t have found me... thank you.”  
  
Bane smiled back. 

"You are always welcome, my Robin." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the few things that disappointed me about the Dark Knight Trilogy was the lack of Black Mask. He's an interesting character to say the least. 
> 
> The Penguin also needs a movie. The Danny DeVito version still gives me nightmares. He was mentioned during the Dark Knight's epic viral marketing so I decided that he does exist in the Nolanverse. 
> 
> Ornithology is the study of Birds. Peng-Peng has a bird gimmick. 
> 
> Matches Malone is straight from the comics. Isis is the name of one of Selina's pet cats also from the Animated Series. 
> 
> I just had to make a jab at Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Sorry. 
> 
> I imagined Black Mask to be portrayed by Jon Hamm of Mad Men fame, I haven't thought of a decent actor for Penguin though. 
> 
> The Signal Jammer idea also came from the Arkham Games.
> 
> Alfred is a BAMF
> 
> I'm sorry if the meme offended you, most people don't like them.
> 
> Note to self: Do not take a break from ficcing to watch Lawless. It gives you ideas of the apron variety. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for bearing with me! I might not write anything else in this 'verse for a while and focus on finishing This is the Way the World Ends.
> 
> Again, Thank you!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Promise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1605128) by [eyezonlyii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyezonlyii/pseuds/eyezonlyii)




End file.
